


Tower to Tower: A Hero and A King

by Felicia_Rottingstone



Series: The Unwilting Rose [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pining, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, anti-Cullen, anti-templar, less canon compliant at the end, maybe not slow burn, maybe regular speed burn, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-08-25 16:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felicia_Rottingstone/pseuds/Felicia_Rottingstone
Summary: Two 20-year-olds with sheltered and restricted upbringings, who've never been allowed to make their own choices in life, suddenly find themselves with the fate of Thedas resting in their hands.  They've both got demons in their past, fears to conquer, and an army to raise, not to mention growing feelings they can't ignore and don't know what to do with.There is explicit sexual content toward the middle and end of the story, but it takes a while to get there.  There is significant sexual harassment in two places: right at the beginning, and then again a few chapters later.Cullen is not a good guy in this one, so be forewarned.Look for the sequel, Bound by Blood, now in progress.





	1. One Templar, Then Another

**Author's Note:**

> Solona is a newly Harrowed Circle mage, saved from Tranquility by the Gray Warden Duncan. Templars are the bane of her existence, so she is glad to be free of them, until she finds one in the ranks of the Wardens.

Duncan was the kindest non-mage I had ever met.  He treated me like a person, not a monster, not a child, not a criminal, not a tool, and not a conquest.  I didn’t know quite what to make of him.

When he first came to the circle, I didn’t think much of him.  For one, I had just completed my Harrowing and was still adjusting to my change in status.  For another, the whole debacle with Jowan and Lily was sucking me in. To top it all off, Cullen seemed to pick that moment to cross the line between unwanted glances to unwanted touches.  I saw his offer to join the Gray Wardens and leave the Circle as a chance to leave all that behind me. As a Gray Warden, I wouldn’t be under Cullen’s supervision and far from his wandering hands, and after what happened to Jowan and Lily, I knew the few freedoms we had would be chipped away until even simple conversations were subject to Templar approval.

As I was packing, Cullen came to see me.

“I heard you’re leaving, joining the Gray Wardens,” he said, his face etched with worry.  I assumed it was worry for himself. Without me, he’d have to find another pretty female to harass. “I thought it was a joke, but now I see they spoke the truth.”

“Yes, it is true,” I replied, keeping my back to him and my eyes on my folding.

“Please, Solona, you can’t,” he pleaded.  I hated my name in his mouth. “It’s too dangerous. You could die. Stay with me where it is safe.”

He came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders, pulling me back against him.  He held me a little too tightly, like he knew I would try to wriggle out of his grip. I fought the urge to scream as he nuzzled his face into my hair, his breath hot on my neck, making my skin crawl. In as calm a voice I could muster, I said, “no more so than my harrowing.”

“That was different,” he claimed, turning me to face him.

“How?” I asked, looking at his shoulder instead of his face.  I feared he would take such an opportunity to press his lips against mine, and then I’d have to kill him. Or myself. “You said you would have been the one to strike me down if I had failed. What is the difference if I fall by someone else’s hand?”

“I am the only one allowed to kill you,” he said, pulling my chin up so he could look me in the eyes.  His face looked genuinely fearful, but I didn’t believe it. Templars were trained from the moment they stepped foot into the abbey to view mages as dangerous beasts to be subdued and controlled.  He didn’t view me as human, only a toy he had grown attached to. Perhaps he thought he was being romantic, but if he truly cared for me, he would have accepted my disinterest long ago.

“I cannot refuse a Gray Warden,” I said carefully. I wouldn’t, even if I could. Not for him.  But I needed to give him what he wanted to hear if I planned on leaving this room safely. “Neither can the Grand Enchanter, and neither can you. Besides, after what happened with Jowan, I think Gregoir is looking for a reason to execute me.”

He sighed deeply, and released my chin to rest his forehead against mine.  His hands lowered and wrapped all the way around me, pulling my body tight to his. I longed to claw free of him, but held myself in check.  Once I was a Gray Warden he would never even see me again, let alone touch me. I just had to hold on until then.

“I guess we were doomed from the start, weren’t we?” he murmured. “A Templar and a mage.  Those stories always end up as tragedies. But I fear I’ll never see you again. Never hold you again.  It makes me ache to think of you out there without me.”

I hoped all his fears came to pass.  I hoped he spent the rest of his days aching in vain.  But right now I just hoped he let go of me. I pressed gently against his chest, trying to free myself.  “Please, Cullen. I must finish before Duncan comes to fetch me.”

He obeyed, reluctantly, and released me. I turned my back to him and continued with my task.  I had hoped that he would leave quickly, but it seemed that his harassment of me was not yet at an end.

“Will you write me?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to.  I’m to go straight to the frontlines, and after that, who knows.”

“Will you at least try?” he asked again.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just let go, forget about each other?” I asked. “Won’t a letter simply prolong your pain?”

He grabbed me roughly under the arm and yanked me back to face him.  “I will never forget you,” he promised, and crushed his lips to mine. It was the first time he had tried such a thing, and I was too shocked to move. He didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t moving or kissing him back or responding in any way. His tongue forced its way into my mouth as he pressed his whole body against me.  All I could do was lean backward, but pinned between him and the wardrobe, all that did was give him room to reach his hand down my robes and attempt to tug them up.

This was it.  What every mage woman feared almost as much as being made tranquil.  I had grown from a child of five to a woman of twenty being constantly told to never let a templar get close, never be alone in a room with one, never look one in the eye when you spoke.  I had even seen the aftermath, some women actively choosing tranquility to avoid the turmoil they experienced in the dark corners of locked rooms. It didn’t stop the abuse, but at least they wouldn’t have to feel it.

I grabbed his hand and twisted my hips away from it, my skirts falling back to the floor. He twined his fingers with mine and held it tight to the wardrobe, high above my head. Now both my hands were trapped, but his were as well, and as he fervently assaulted my mouth, he did nothing further.  

A knock came at the door.  Cullen sprung away as if I had knocked him back with a wind spell.  One second he was moulding his body to mine, the next he was clear across the room, a picture of Templar attention.

“Lady Solona?” Duncan’s voice carried through the door. “Have you finished?  I’d like to begin our journey before midday.”

“I’ll be just a moment,” I called back.  The last few items I needed I stuffed in my pack, unfolded and haphazardly placed. It didn’t matter anymore.  I just needed to leave.

“Solona,” Cullen said, halfway reaching for me as I passed him and opened the door.  I kept going without looking back.

That night, I found bruises on my arm where he had held me. I didn’t sleep, half afraid that he would come after me. But that was an unfounded fear.  As much as he desired me, his allegiance would always be the Chantry, and he would never disobey orders. Every mile we put between us and Lake Calenhad, I felt safer.

Duncan helped.  He was soft-spoken, yet commanding.  He told me the stories of the Gray Wardens, of Ferelden and Orlais, of his own youth.  It was nothing deep or emotional, mostly things that could be found in primer history books, but I found the way he told stories comforting.  He asked me questions, too, and any time I hesitated to answer, he would change the subject before I felt obligated. He gave me orders, too, but with the command of a leader, not a jailor, and the few times I made mistakes, he patiently and firmly corrected me.

The greatest surprise was his reaction to my magic. Where in the Circle use of magic was strictly controlled and supervised, Duncan just wanted to see what I was capable of.  Along the road, he would pick out trees for me to attack, being especially impressed by my command of the elements. Then, at night, I was able to show off the domestic spells I had learned, ones for darning clothes, lighting woodless fires, setting wards, and purifying water.  He never reacted with trepidation. In fact, he seemed almost impressed by my abilities. I grew more appreciative of him every day. 

By the time we reached the army camp at Ostagar, I was comfortable with him, perhaps the first time I had felt so in my life. He introduced me to the king, a pale and formidable looking man, and set me up with a cot among the other Wardens. Then he sent me to find a man called Alistair. 

Now that I had arrived, all the gathered recruits would undergo the joining, a ritual they kept as secret as the harrowing. This Alistair was needed for that, it seemed. Or perhaps Duncan just wanted to give me an errand to perform so I wasn't wandering the camp aimlessly. 

I did wander a bit, though. I couldn't help it. Everything was new and big and exciting. Every person I met immensely interesting. I even saw dogs, and helped the kennel master with a sick one. I avoided the cluster of tents with the circle mages, however. I didn't want to run into any more Templars.

Eventually, I found myself in a more secluded part of the ruins, and followed the sound of arguing voices. 

“What is it now? Haven’t Gray Wardens asked more than enough of the circle?” I didn’t know the mage whose voice carried down the ramp, but his robes matched mine in color, if not style.  He looked annoyed. Defensive.

“I simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, Ser mage,” replied the man standing with him in the stilted voice of someone trying to be diplomatic for perhaps the first time.  “She desires your presence.”

“What her reverence desires is of no concern to me,” the mage snapped back.  “I am busy helping the Gray Wardens. By the king’s orders, I might add.”

“Should I have asked her to write a note?” the other man asked, snark replacing diplomacy.  I was close enough now to see the blue colors of his Gray Warden uniform. This must be the Alastair Duncan had sent me to find.

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” The mage was practically shouting now. If they had not been in a secluded part of the camp, they would have drawn attention.  Alistair’s posture slouched from at attention to annoyed.

“Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message,” he drawled, his voice soaked in sarcasm.  I didn’t know the history between the two, but it seemed to me that the mage was overreacting.  

“Your glibness does you no credit,” the mage snarled.

“Here I thought we were getting along so well,” Alastair said.  “I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one.”

I suppressed a smile as I came to a halt beside them.  The mage did not even glance at me before replying that he would go see the Reverend Mother.

“Get out of my way, fool,” he said to Alastair before pushing past him and heading down the incline.

“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” he said, watching the mage stalk off in the direction of the Revered Mother. 

“Sorry, what?” I asked.  He turned to look at me and frowned.

“Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?” he inquired, his eyes landing on the staff strapped to my back. He hadn’t seemed particularly hostile to the other mage, although that man had seemed to think he was, but I had often been told that many people outside the tower reacted to mages with fear and suspicion.  There were many mages at the camp, but that was no comfort up here, where this stranger and I stood secluded and out of sight. I straightened my back and hardened my voice. I wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone, anymore.

“I am indeed a mage,” I replied.  His face softened instantly.

“Wait, I do know who you are.  You’re Duncan’s new recruit, from the circle.” He slapped himself on the forehead and then reached his hand forward.  “I should have recognized you right away. I apologize”

“How would you have recognized me?” I asked slowly, making no move to take his hand.

“Duncan sent word.  He spoke quite highly of you.” He retracted his hand, but did not look offended.  Instead, he placed it across his chest and bowed his head slightly. “Allow me to introduce myself: I’m Alistair, the new Gray Warden, though I guess you already knew that. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

“Pleased to meet you.  My name is Solona.” I smiled politely, still trying to get a read on him.  He had been incredibly sarcastic with the mage, but now he spoke with manners.  I knew Gray Wardens took their recruits from all classes, races, and countries. What had he been before he had put on the blue uniform?  

“You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”

I was a bit taken aback.  It seemed like the sort of thought one should keep on the inside. Granted, not growing up in the circle probably meant your thoughts wouldn’t put your life in danger.  Why shouldn’t he speak as soon as he thinks, if he’s not surrounded by soldiers prepared to kill him for the wrong idea? Even the Templars that had watched my every move carefully filtered what they said.  It was charming that this man did not. I asked him, “You want more women in the Wardens, do you?”

“Would that be so terrible?” he asked, then seemed to realize the implication of his statement.  “Not that I’m some drooling letcher or something. Please stop looking at me like that.”

I hadn’t been aware that my polite smile had grown into a genuine grin, but I obediently pressed my lips together. Whether or not Alistair was a good man remained to be seen, but at least he would never hide his intentions or cloak his desires in deceit. I could respect that. Once the blush had receded from his tawny cheekbones, he continued.

“So, I'm curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?”

“No, I haven’t,” I answered. He sighed in response.

“When I fought my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was.  I can’t say I’m looking forward to encountering another.” His eyes grew distant as a muscle in his jaw tightened.  He wasn’t the hardened warrior I had been expecting. “Anyhow, whenever you’re ready, let’s get back to Duncan. I can imagine he’s eager to get things started.”

We fell into an easy walk, side by side.

“That argument I saw... what was it about?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“With the mage?” he asked.  I nodded. “The Circle is here at the king’s request and the Chantry doesn’t like that one bit. They just love letting mages know how unwelcome they are.”

Didn’t I know that.  It was why they stole us from our parents and locked us in towers, and took our minds when they could.

“Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position,” he continued. “I was once a Templar.”

My blood turned to ice in my veins and my feet faltered. Alistair didn’t seem to notice the physical distance I placed between us, or perhaps was simply too polite to acknowledge. Suddenly, the earlier mage’s reaction made sense, was even reasonable.  His revelation made him more untrustworthy. As a Templar, he had the power to make me vulnerable, the training to believe such subjugation was both necessary and just, and the license to do as he wished to me without reprisal. I suppose some Templars were decent people, inside, but the moment they donned the Templar mantle, their own personal virtues ceased to matter.  They were jailors, persecutors, torturers, and executioners, all rolled into one. And that was just the ones who didn’t abuse their mandate. 

“That would be awkward,” I said after a tense moment. I wasn’t a full Gray Warden yet.  I didn’t want to rock the boat until I, too, wore the blue.

“I’m sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult, sending me as her messenger.  And the mage picked right up on it,” he explained. At least he had some awareness. “I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan said we’re all to cooperate and get along. Apparently, they didn’t get the same speech.”

He turned to look at me and raised one eyebrow, as if to make clear that he saw himself as a tool caught in the middle of an argument he had no rightful part of.  I saw now that he viewed himself as a Gray Warden completely, not as the Templar he had once been.

“I look forward to traveling with you,” I replied, my polite smile back in place.  He stopped in his tracks, his jaw slack.

“You do?” he asked, the disbelief evident in his entire expression.  If he had expected me to curse him out for being Templar, then he had clearly spent no time at the Circle.  No mage there would speak against a Templar to their face. To do so would be death, or worse. He said, “Huh. That’s a switch. If you have any questions, let me know.  Otherwise, lead on.”

He seemed surprised at my warmness, but he didn’t question it anymore.  Instead, he swept his arm ahead of him, gallantly letting me take the lead as we walked back to Duncan. I walked forward with purpose. I had exchanged one Templar for another, but perhaps being a Gray Warden superseded that. Perhaps Alistair was different.


	2. Love Comes Covered in Darkspawn Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle of Ostagar, Solona and her two fairly silent companions have a long road ahead of them. First, get to Lothering. Then, decide what the hell they need to do first. After... who knows! A not-so-chance encounter on the road brightens everyone's mood.

“You... you're alive. I thought you were dead for sure,” he had said. I replayed the moment in my head over and over again.  The wide brown eyes, slightly open mouth, the way he had instinctively reached for me before drawing his hand back. He had been relieved to find me alive. He had seemed to care.

I looked over at him now, as we walked along a country path, only a few days from Lothering. The shock of everything that had happened had settled deep into him.  His grief laid heavy on his shoulders, wrapped around his ankles like weights, and muted his voice. He had not spoken for some time now, a stark change from our excursion into the Wilds to prepare for the Joining, and he kept his eyes firmly on the ground, his face stony and closed off.

I then looked at my other companion.  She, too, walked silently, but her eyes were always moving, taking in everything like it was the first time she had seen it.  Perhaps it was. Flemeth made it seem like her daughter had never left home before.

Despite Alistair’s protestations at the camp, I was glad we had Morrigan as our companion. She was a powerful mage, perhaps more so than I, and she had none of the hangups the Chantry had beaten into me.  I envied her freedom from them. No matter what Duncan had said about the Gray Wardens being free from the control of either the Chantry or the Circle, they still had my phylactery, in Denerim of all places, close to Loghain's reach.  They could still hunt me down, if they so chose, and if they did, I wanted an ally like Morrigan on my side.

Alistair picked his head up suddenly, peering into the distance.  Something had caught his attention. A barking behind us distracted me, and I turned to find a massive mabari barrelling toward me.  I got out of the way just in time to see the animal race past, headed straight for a small collection of darkspawn.

It only took a breath for the three of us to ready ourselves.  Alistair unsheathed his sword and plunged forward to meet the fray without hesitation.  Morrigan and I raised our staffs and cast in unison, my fire hitting them in time with the vines she caused to snake up from the ground.

It quickly became apparent that our combat skills were unnecessary for this battle.  Even Alistair could have stepped away, and still, the darkspawn would have been felled in short shrift.  The mabari tore into each one quickly, his massive jaws snapping around one’s ankle, then his sharp nails shredding the flesh of another. Their blows glanced off the dog, blades not even breaking skin, and certainly not slowing him down in any way. He was a one-dog killing machine, and he gleefully disemboweled his last foe before trotting happily back to me.

As he sat at attention before me, globs of blood soaking his chin, neck, and chest, I realized I recognized him. The last time I had seen this hound, he had been recovering from a darkspawn related illness. The kennel master had asked me to fetch an herb from the Wilds, as long as we were going anyway, and with it had made the dog medicine. It seemed the dog had made a full recovery, survived the battle, and tracked us down over a hundred miles. Truly impressive. 

“Those darkspawn didn’t even hurt you, did they boy,” I crooned, crouching down to look him in the eyes.  For a massive beast covered in blood, he looked surprisingly friendly. “I see you’ve made a full recovery.”

“I think he was out here looking for you,” Alastair chimed in, wiping the black blood off his own blade. “He’s...chosen you.  Mabari are like that. The call it imprinting.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have this mangy beast following us about now?” Morrigan asked. She didn’t even try to hide the disdain in her voice.  Her lip was curled into a sneer as she eyed it warily. “Wonderful.”

“He’s not mangy,” Alistair protested, taking the rag he had used on his sword to wipe down the dog’s face and neck.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” I murmured.  I wasn’t entirely sure that was true. I had seen so few of them in my life.  But I sure wanted one now. The way he looked at me, with unbounded affection, made my heart constrict.  I had never loved anything so thoroughly in my life, nor so quickly.

“How odd,” Morrigan commented, turning her disapproving gaze from the mabari to the Gray Warden facing her. “We now have a dog and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party.”

Alistair didn’t hear her. Or perhaps he chose not to hear her.  Either way, the dog improved his mood considerably in the days that followed.  He still made little conversation with Morrigan or myself, but he often chatted happily with the dog.

“Are you just going to keep calling him dog?” Morrigan asked, finally snapping.  “He’s more intelligent than most men, he deserves a name.”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Alistair taunted.

“I don’t.  But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve basic respect.  He’s far more deserving of it than you, and you’ve got a name.”

“Well, anyway, he’s not my dog,” Alistair said.  “I can’t name him. Ask Solona.”

The three of them turned to look at me in unison.  Name him? I had never named anything in my life. How was I going to pick a name for this creature that could possibly encompass his ferocity, affection, prowess, and beauty?

“Um..” I started.  “What would you name him, if he were yours?”

“I would give him a name befitting his abilities, that spoke to his potential,” Morrigan responded.  “Perhaps the name of a famous mabari of old. Or how about… Bastard Slayer?”

She looked sideways at Alistair, a smirk on her lips.  He glowered, and the dog whined, leaning against him for attention.

“He thinks that’s a terrible name,” Alistair scoffed, then looked at me. “I would call him… Barkspawn”

“That's an awful name,” Morrigan said. “A child could come up with better. He is a hound of war, not a sewn doll.”

But the dog barked happily and wagged his little nub of a tail.  I asked him, “do you like that, Barkspawn?” He responded by bounding over to me, placing his paws on my chest, and dragging his wet, slobbery tongue up the side of my face. I met Alistair’s eyes, and for the first time since setting out, he smiled. It wasn't a big smile, with teeth and creases around the eyes, but it was a start.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and walked on ahead of us. We followed her, walking shoulder to shoulder on either side of Barkspawn, in solidarity of the ridiculous name. 

“Thank you,” I said. 

“You are very welcome,” he replied. “So few people recognize the greatness of my naming abilities. It's nice to finally be appreciated.” 

“Ah, no,” I corrected. “I meant for sticking with me. After what happened, you could have sent me back to the Circle, or just left me. But instead, you're here, and you… We're doing this together, as partners.”

“So you don't like the name?” he asked. I chuckled a little. 

“No, I do,” I assured him. “It's like laughing in the face of evil. Foolish or brave, who knows, but gutsy. Still, I mean what I said.”

“Well, Duncan made it clear that joining the Wardens is a lifelong vocation,” he said, now serious. “Whatever we were before, that's what we are now, and that's what we will always be. I couldn't abandon you or send you away. Right now, my allegiance to you and the Wardens is all I have. Plus, it's never a good idea for me to be left to my own devices. That's how Sister Joell wound up with unnaturally green robes. She had to wear them for a week, in public, at services, before replacements could be found. Serves her right, to be honest. She told me I wasn't as funny as I thought I was. She was practically begging me to prove her wrong.”

Alistair's moment of seriousness faded into tales of of his rebellions against the Chantry. I liked to listen to them. It made me like him more, that he had hated the sisters and the Templars as much as I did, although I envied the freedom he had to act out his fantasies of disobedience. If I had done even a fraction of what he had, I'd be dead or Tranquil long before my Harrowing. The worst he ever faced was a beating. If they had been truly displeased with him, they would have sent him back to wherever he came from, which I still didn't know. 

“Alistair,” I interrupted. “Where do you come from? What was your life like before you started training to be a Templar?”

I could see it was the wrong question to ask. His face, which had been… Not happy, exactly, but relaxed, darkened. There was a mix of emotions there I couldn't read. Anger, certainly, but directed in or out, I couldn't tell. Also, regret, grief, shame, longing seemed to war over his expression. He was quiet for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked at me. 

“Before I was-” 

“Look ahead,” Morrigan called from 20 yards down the road. In the distance, we could see Lothering, a medium sized settlement pressed up against one side of the Imperial Highway. All around us I saw the discarded effects that were often left behind a fleeing population. Broken crates, carts, and wagons had been picked over for spare parts and salvageable firewood. Torn and dirty cloth items, useless junk that couldn't be sold and could no longer be carried, family mementos that meant nothing in the face of death, all littered the road to the village. As we walked closer, I wondered what had befallen the families that had discarded these things. 

“There seems to be a collection of men up ahead,” Morrigan informed me, having waited for us to catch up. “They're not wearing any discernible uniform, but they are well armed.” 

“How can you tell?” I asked. 

“You think they're bandits?” Alistair asked. His question, being the more intelligent and relevant one, she answered. 

“I think we should strike first. Chances are, they have only had practice frightening already frightened refugees, and will put up little resistance to our attack.” 

“Can we just go around them?” Alistair asked. “Starting a fight on the Imperial Highway seems like a good way to get unwanted attention.” 

“No, we're not doing either of those things,” I decided. “If they are as weak as Morrigan says, then we can persuade them to give up their task. But we cannot just leave them there to continue to harass refugees, and it would be dishonorable to strike the first blow.”

“Dishonorable,” Morrigan muttered in disbelief, but she didn't counter me. Neither did Alistair. I was the reasonable one between them, and for whatever reason, they had both decided that mine was the final decision. Now all I had to do was prove they had made the right choice. 

After that, we could rest in Lothering as we decided our path.


	3. Dreams Fade to Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona has picked up two more companions in Lothering, but it's Alistair she starts to bond with.

Fire. Torches and flames. Hunger. The need to find, consume, destroy. Everything was bitter cold and insufferably hot. I felt the evil in every parcel of my bones, reaching through me, gripping my heart. The archdemon appeared. A massive dragon with wings unfurling and spouts of flame erupting between teeth like greatswords. I felt the bile rise up in my throat, desperate to feed of the sinister energy that wrapped me in the hoard. We would march. We would ravage. We would be unstoppable. 

I'm not sure what caused me to open my eyes, but I'm glad I did. The awfulness of what I had seen and felt melted into the haze that held all dreams upon waking. The heavy weight of Barkspawn’s head rested across my stomach, and he looked up at me with concern in his eyes. I gently ran my hand along the top of his skull. 

“Bad dreams, huh?” Alistair's voice came from the bed roll next to mine. When we had settled in he had been across the fire. Why had he moved?

“It seemed so real…” I muttered, pushing myself to a sitting position as Barkspawn shifted his weight, curling into a ball that pressed his back into my thigh. He was such a good dog. 

“It was. In a way,” Alistair answered, playing with a stick he had carved notches into. “Part of being a Gray Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon, it "talks" to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight.”

“Are these dreams going to happen a lot?” I asked quietly. The hunger I had felt, it was their hunger. I never wanted to feel it again.  

“It takes a bit, but you can eventually block the dreams out. Some of the elder Gray Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I can't,” he explained. I wasn't sure I would want to understand more than I already did. “Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should move over here and tell you. It was scary at first for me, too.”

“Thank you, Alistair.  I appreciate it,” I said, laying one hand lightly on his forearm. His fiddling hands froze and he quickly looked down at where I touched him. I removed it instantly, and he went back to how he was before, letting out a big puff of air. 

“That's what I'm here for: to deliver unpleasant truths and witty one-liners.” He chuckled at his own joke, and I smiled too, but more to relieve the tension than because it was funny. I shouldn't have touched him. I felt like that touch hung in the air between us. I had wanted him to know I was grateful, but I had forgotten that Alistair was not used to being around women, apart from the old and entirely cold sisters at the Abbey. What if he interpreted it as an invitation to something more? I didn't like the idea of having another man's advances to ward off. 

I stood, brushing non-existent dirt off my skirts as I did. Both Alistair and Barkspawn rose with me. Well, Barkspawn rose. Alistair scrambled awkwardly to his feet. 

“I'm fine,” I said, holding my hands out against the two. “I just want to stretch my legs and maybe get some water. You don't need to come with.” 

Barkspawn whined for a second before laying back down. Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “Of course! Don't know why I stood up too. Maybe I'll just.. Tend to the fire!”

He grabbed a few sticks from the accumulated pile and tossed them unceremoniously on the flames. The resulting embers that flew out landed on his trousers, and he frantically beat them out. The sound was enough to rouse Sten, the hulking Qunari warrior we had picked up in Lothering. He glowered at Alistair, mumbled something under his breath, and rolled over. I left Alistair to his “tending” and headed for the camp's perimeter. 

The troubles that faced us had been shown in ugly detail in Lothering. Loghain had sent mercenaries to deal with us, and only by the assistance of a “former Chantry lay-sister” were we able to send them back to their master. Leliana seemed genuine in her intentions, but that was perhaps the only genuine thing about her. Alistair has asked her, to her face, if she was an Orlesian spy. Furthermore, the Arl of Redcliffe, who Alistair had admitted raised him, had an army, and was distanced from Loghain, but had befallen some mysterious illness, according to the knight we had found in Lothering's Chantry. If Alistair had been eager to turn to him first, before that revelation, he was all the more eager to turn there now. Finally, the effects of the Blight had already taken hold in Lothering, from the swollen tent city besieged by bandits and grifters, to the starving orphans that ran the streets calling for their dead mothers. 

We had come out of the village a ways to camp, bringing our new recruits with us. Morrigan and Alistair had disagreed about that, as they did everything. Sten, Morrigan argued, was a weapon “only a fool would leave behind,” while Alistair was shocked I even considered letting him out of his cage. Meanwhile, Leliana and Alistair seemed to have developed a rapport already, while the new woman needled the aloof mage. 

I had doubts about them both, but we had a war to win, and no army. How could I turn down help? If later, it stabbed me in the back, then I would deal with the wound as I dealt with everything: quiet perseverance. 

I finished my circle and came back to the fire. Leliana and Sten were sleeping noiselessly. Morrigan was on watch, somewhere we couldn't see her. She volunteered for watch so often, Alistair had started to believe she didn't need sleep. I found it more likely she just wanted to be alone, and could rely on enchanted forest friends to be her eyes and ears. Either way, I was grateful. 

Alistair had moved his bedroll slightly away from mine, but not back to its original spot. He still played with his whittled stick, which I saw was the only stick he hadn't tossed in the raging fire. 

“I, ah, I got a bit carried away,” he said, explaining the inferno. “And anyway, it's too cold out. Everyone will sleep better with a big fire.” 

“And if we run out of fuel?” I asked, settling down. 

“Well, I'll just wake you up. You're good with fire. Aren't you?” He was too earnest for his own good. No wonder Morrigan enjoyed teasing him so. 

“I just wanted to say,” I began, for no other reason than to fill the silence. “I’m sorry about Duncan.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he replied, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

“He was like a father to you. I understand.” In the brief time I had spent with him, I had grown to admire Duncan.  At first, I thought it was because of how he stood in stark contrast to the men who had surrounded me in the Circle, but the more I learned about Duncan, the more I yearned to be like him, to prove myself worthy of his approval.  I had never had a father, not a real one, but I imagined that’s what it was like to have a good one.

“I...I should have handled it better,” he finally said, hanging his head. “Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen.  Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn’t have lost it. Not when so much is riding on it, not with the Blight, and… and everything. I’m sorry.”

His apology surprised me. Yes, apologies were not something I was used to, but more than that, I had seen Alistair handle his grief with courage. He did not abdicate his duty, nor run from a fight, nor dive headfirst into recklessness.  In the Circle, loss was a common theme, and it ate at so many mages, tearing little bits of them away until they were little better than Tranquil. Or it drove them to vengeance so fierce they broke every law that had been placed upon us.  Blood magic or Tranquility. It seemed like everyone ended one way or the other. At least my death would be unique. So much of this I could have shared with him, but instead I just said, “There’s no need to apologize.”

“I’d like to have a proper funeral for him, maybe once this is all done,” he said.  “If we’re still alive. I don’t think he had any family to speak of.”

“He had you,” I pointed out.

“I suppose that’s true. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle.  I feel like I abandoned him.”

Again, I felt the instinct to reach out and touch him, but held back.  There was nothing like feeling guilty just for surviving. “No. I understand completely.”

“Of course, I’d be dead then, wouldn’t I?” he sighed, speaking as much to himself as he was to me. “It’s not like that would make him happy.  I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I’ll go up there sometime. See about putting up something in his honor. Have you had someone close to you die?”

He was looking at me now, his caramel brown eyes flickering in the firelight, his face open and expressing every thought that came to his mind as he thought it.  I could see he was looking to not be alone in his misery.

The truth was, I hadn’t, but only because I had never really been close to anyone except Jowan.  I had seen countless mages fail their Harrowing, suffer the Rite of Tranquillity, or simply disappear, but no one who meant anything to me.  That was the trick to surviving the Circle. Love no one, not even yourself. Still, I couldn’t let Alistair feel he was alone in his grief.

“Not that I mean to pry,” he continued, filling my silence.

“I’ve lost enough to know what you’re going through,” I finally said. Our eyes met, and I felt like I was staring into his soul.  All his grief was laid bare, but so too was his resolve. In that moment, I think I understood him better than I’d ever understood anyone. I could only hope he found the same kinship reflected back in my eyes.

“Well, thank you,” he said, breaking the connection and looking away. “Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little.”

“Maybe I’ll go with you when you go to Highever,” I said. The words left my mouth unbidden. I didn't even know where Highever was, and did I really want to be making plans for post-Blight?

“I’d like that,” he replied. “So would he, I think.”

We sat quietly, staring into the flames for a while.  Eventually, the inferno he created did indeed die down, and I practiced my staffless magic by keeping it going without fuel. Alistair stayed with me, not talking or sleeping, just keeping me company in a comfortable silence.  As the sky began to gray with a slowly rising sun, I let the flames die for good as the camp woke, packed, and gathered around me.

“So,” Morrigan chimed, appearing out of nowhere. “Where to, fearless leader.”

“Redcliffe,” I said, at last sure of my decision. “We need to know what’s going on with the Arl before we can hope to stand against Loghain, and until Loghain has been defeated, what use will the treaties be?”

Morrigan inclined her head at me, Sten grunted, and Leliana smiled.  But Alistair, the one I thought would be most pleased with this decision, only frowned and looked into the distance. Perhaps, in time, he would tell me why.


	4. Childhood Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Redcliffe, Solona opens up about her childhood to Alistair and confides in him her most traumatic experience. He repays her with a secret of his own.

The closer we got to Redcliffe, the jumpier Alistair became. He trailed behind us often enough that I was startled to see him appear at my shoulder. I was too curious to refrain from digging. 

“I’d like to ask you something,” I said. He startled a little, unaware that he had my attention.

“Ask away,” he responded.

“So you said this Arl Eamon raised you,” I began, but he immediately cut me off.

“Did I say that? I meant that dogs raised me,” he deflected.  “Giant, slobbering dogs, from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact.”

“That’s not what I remember you telling Flemeth,” I countered. He grimaced, slightly.

“Let’s see, how do I explain this? I’m a bastard,” he said enthusiastically.  It didn’t seem to bother him any. He dove into the tale of his origins, explaining the context of his admission into the Templars, and taking responsibility for strained relations with Arl Eamon.  I tried not to feel sorry for him, but I did. His tale was similar to my own, except it was my own father that called for the Templars to take me away. His new wife was afraid I’d burn the cottage down.  

“What about you?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Well, you left home young too, didn’t you?” he asked.  “For the Circle?”

To ask him to share his history and give nothing of my own would be selfish.  I also found myself _wanting_ to tell him. He was one of the few non-Circle mage people who might have a hope at understanding.

“I don’t remember my mother,” I began. “And I barely remember my father.  I remember his new wife, though. They married when I was four, I think. My abilities started manifesting shortly thereafter. I usually set my food on fire, trying to warm it up.  She always gave me cold food. The clearest memory I have of her is begging my father to call the Templars before I burned the place down. The clearest memory I have of my father is when he picked me up by the arms and set me into the hands of a Templar. I can’t recall his face, just the feel of him letting go of me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That couldn’t have been an easy childhood.”

“I’m hardly the only mage who doesn’t remember their parents, or where they lived, or anything like that.  Surely you learned that in your training?”

“Ah, no,” he said. “I never actually took my vows, so they never actually let me anywhere near mages.”

“There are few families that try to hang on to a mage child once their magic manifests,” I explain. “The Chantry preaches day and night about the evils of magic, how it must be contained or it will bring about the destruction of all.  Most people view mage children as murderers-in-waiting. Better to get rid of them, before they can kill.”

“That’s awful,” Alistair said.  “I didn’t know things were so bad. But isn’t it better, then, to be with other mages than people who fear you?”

His naivete was usually endearing, but this time it grated on me.  “The day after my harrowing, I had a conversation with an apprentice who wanted the Rite of Tranquility because she thought her magic made her a monster.  Who do you think put that idea into her head? Most of us leave our families too young to remember them. The Chantry convinces them we are evil so they will give us up, then works to convince us we are evil so we are easier to control.  My family did not hate me because I was a mage. They feared me because the Chantry told them to.”

My voice had risen, and both Morrigan and Leliana were close enough to overhear.  My face flushed in anger, and I clenched my fists, trying to stabilize my mood, as I had been taught.  I had long ago advanced beyond letting my emotions influence my abilities, but I had been afraid of my own rage for too long; I didn’t know how to stop now.  

“The actions of some in the Chantry are despicable,” Leliana commented.  “Circles should be a haven for mages.”

“Why should they need a haven?” Morrigan countered.  “If your religion did not teach others to hate magic, then mages could freely move in society, instead of being locked in towers or chased into forests. It seems to me that the issue is not those in charge, but the system that gives them such power.”

“That’s unfair,” Leliana countered.  “The Chant of Light does not teach people to hate magic.”

“Magic is to serve mankind, never rule over them,” I said. 

“Exactly!” Leliana agreed.

“Except, in practice, it’s not magic that serves, it’s mages,” I continued.  Leliana looked hard at me, but did not interrupt. “And if mages serve mankind, then they must not be part of mankind.  Separate. Less.”

“No!” she exclaimed. “That’s not it at all!”

“You can argue interpretation of texts all you like,” Morrigan tells her.  “At the end of the day, no mage can freely walk down the streets of Denerim without permission of your Chantry, which I am to understand is rarely given.  Who else suffers under those restrictions? Soldiers do not, although I would argue their death toll is far higher. Only mages live without choice or freedom for reasons entirely beyond their control.  I have never killed anyone I did not mean to, and never at all when I was a child. Why should I treat them fairly when there is no fairness in the way they have chosen to treat me and people like me?”

Leliana had no answer for her.  She scowled and stalked off toward Sten.  Morrigan did not smile at her victory, but did nod in my direction.  I was grateful towards her and thankful I had chosen to bring her alone.

“I didn’t mean to cause an argument,” Alistair offered.

“I know.” I brushed loose strands of hair out of my eyes.  “It’s just that, with mages out of sight, no one considers their treatment.  No one asks after them or investigates. We are people, the same as anyone. Except instead of stabbing you, I can freeze you rock solid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Although, it might be easier if I just stay on your good side.  I don’t particularly like being cold, strange as it is for a Fereldan to say.”

I smiled, amused by his continued ability to find humor in every situation.  He smiled in return and soon we were laughing as if our conversation had never turned unpleasant.  

When we camped, I did my best to talk with everyone, getting to know them piece by piece.  Leliana was devout, but she was also materialistic, and she went out of her way to make me smile.  Morrigan was often cold and cutting, but with enough flattery, I learned of her past with her mother, and she seemed to soften as a result.  Not towards Alistair, though. Even Sten, stoic as he was, engaged in some conversation, as long as we kept to suitable topics. He much preferred Barkspawn to anyone else in the company.

Still, night after night I found my bedroll laid next to Alistair’s, and we would fall asleep in quiet conversation.  One night, when we were almost to Redcliffe, he asked me again about my childhood.

“Besides the Chantry, what was it like?” he asked. “If I had taken my vows, would our paths have crossed?”

“It’s possible,” I replied. “Many Templars are needed in case of catastrophe.”

“But I don’t suppose it’s fun, living with a bunch of people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if they were ordered to.”

“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t make for the best working relationship.”

“Does it ever happen though?” he pressed. “A mage and a Templar? Become friends, I mean. Or, you know… whatever.”

I thought of Jowan and Lily, a mage and a Chantry sister. They had been in love, and it had ended terribly, but at least it had been mutual.  Relationships with Templars seldom were. How did I tell him that gently?

“There are many Templar men and many mage women.” I chose my words carefully.  “Mages are forbidden from fraternizing with each other, and most obey.  Getting caught can be… serious, and no one wants to suffer that. But with Templars… they’re the ones that do the catching, the punishing.  They cannot police themselves. Or they can, and just choose not to. Mage women, on the other hand, if such an affair were to come to light, the consequences for them would be too high.”

“So the Templars are always turned down?”

“No, they’re not.  That can be dangerous, too.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“If a Templar was… attentive to me.” My mind thought of Cullen. Always so attentive, no matter how I tried to hide. “And I rebuffed him, he had ways to retaliate.”

“Like what?” Alistair asked.

“Like claiming I was stealing supplies if he just wanted to scare me.  Or claiming he had overheard me talk about blood magic, if he really wanted to punish me.” I thought again of Jowan.  A rumor against him had driven him to that very thing.

“That’s awful!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t there anything the mage can do?”

“No. Who would believe the word of a suspected blood mage over that of a Templar?  And who could stop the Templars, even if they did?”

“I don’t think I could even say hello to a mage, knowing that,” he said. “How would I know if she really liked me, or was just afraid of what I’d do if she said no?”

My heart softened at his response.  Perhaps he should have been a Templar.  The order needed more men like him. Fewer men like Cullen. He still floated through my mind like a menacing specter.  Redcliffe was close to the Circle, and I dreaded the thought of returning there, although we’d eventually have to. We would need their support.

“Did you ever have to deal with that? Personally?” he asked. Then he closed his eyes in embarrassment.  “Of course, that’s what you want to talk about right before you go to sleep, isn’t it? Here’s a horrible thing I experienced, good night! I’m sorry.  You don’t have to answer that. In fact, you shouldn’t. I’m going to roll over now, so you can’t.”

Alistair did indeed roll over, dragging his blanket with him. His question had been invasive, and had anyone else asked it, I would have rebuked them.  But it was hard to rebuke a man who had already done so to himself. And I didn’t doubt his ability to sympathize with me. And maybe if I talked about it, it wouldn’t haunt my dreams as the darkspawn did.

“He- he was at my Harrowing,” I started, then paused. Alistair didn’t move for a moment, and I thought perhaps he had actually fallen asleep. But slowly he rolled back to face me, keeping his hands and lower face tucked under his blanket. “I think his superiors knew about his… advances.  They assigned him the task of killing me, in the event I failed my Harrowing. He would have done it, too. No second thoughts. That’s how I know he didn’t feel as strongly as he said he did.”

Alistair kept quiet and just watched me.  He waited for me to tell him the story instead of pressing it out of me.  Instead of taking what he wanted. He let me lead.

“He first came to the Circle a few years back, when I was still an apprentice.  He was the handsome new Templar, so everyone talked, but never with any seriousness.  He was, after all, a Templar. I don’t know when it started, but he would stop me in the corridor to ask me questions.  Benign questions, that had nothing to do with anything.  What was I studying?  Did I enjoy dinner?  Had a heard a joke about a Dwarf in a forest?  What was my favorite color? It took me a while to realize why. Before I could do anything about it, it was too late.  I tried to avoid him as best I could, but he was so often assigned to supervise my studies. He found ways to get me alone and corner me into a conversation.  It became an open secret, how he felt about me. I never did anything to encourage him, but I was polite, as I had been trained to be. I felt trapped.

“After my Harrowing, it got worse. He found me while I was moving my things from the apprentice dorms to the mage quarters. He put his hands on my arms, rubbed them up and down, then brushed my hair out of my face. It was only some light touching, but every day I feared he’d take it a step further. I’d seen other girls, they’d make a fuss and end up Tranquil. I didn’t want that to be me. I figured, eventually, I’d have to kill him or submit to him.  I didn’t want to do either.

“The last time I saw him was the day I left with Duncan.  He came to my room as I was packing and tried to convince me to stay.  I thought I would be able to give him the goodbye he wanted, and then he’d leave me alone, for good.  But he wasn’t satisfied. He...he tried…” I couldn't finish that sentence. I couldn't even think about what had happened. It was locked in a box deep inside my mind, and I wanted it to stay buried there. I swallowed and continued.  “Duncan came and interrupted. Being made a Gray Warden, it’s saved me from so much already.”

I fell silent and stared at the dirt between us instead of Alistair’s face.  He let me think in peace for a time, then lowered his blanket and said. “Thank you, for telling me. It can’t have been easy to deal with all that.  I’ve never gone through anything like that, so I can’t say I understand what you’re going through, but… I want you to know that you will never have anything to fear from me.  I know Morrigan says I’m stupid often, but I’m smart enough to keep my hands and thoughts to myself.”

“Except for when you’re fighting,” I argue, a slight smile on my face.

“That’s different,” he protests.  “I’m supposed to be telling and showing the darkspawn what I want to do to them.  Which is all violence, by the way. Nothing else.”

I laughed at his clarification, and it became easier to breathe.  Telling Alistair, and especially having him just listen to my experience with Cullen, didn’t change anything that had happened, but it felt good knowing he was on my side and respected my boundaries. After that, it was easy to fall asleep.

The next morning, we reached the outskirts of Redcliffe.  As we did, Alistair pulled me aside.

“Look, can we talk for a minute?” he asked. “After last night, I realized I need to tell you something I, ah, probably should have told you sooner.”

My mind raced.  What could he have to tell me that was inspired by last night’s conversations?  And why at this moment, on the approach to the village? I asked him, “What’s on your mind?”

“I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl in the castle and he took me in?” I nodded and he continued. “The reason he did that was because... well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my... half-brother, I suppose.”

An image of King Cailen flashed into my mind and I started to compare.  Both tall, similar facial structures, although Alistair’s eyes were different.  Both blond, except Alistair’s blond was more sand-colored compared to Cailan’s flaxen locks, and Alistair’s complexion was much, much darker. I knew nothing else of King Cailan to compare to Alistair, but I found it believable enough. 

“So… you’re not just a bastard, you’re a royal bastard?” I asked. He laughed, some relief creeping into his face. 

“I would have told you, but…” he struggled to find the right words. “It never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan’s rule and so they kept me secret.  I’ve never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me... even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know, as long as possible. I'm sorry.”

“I think I understand,” I said, after a moment.  It wasn’t something that he had any choice in, and he couldn’t do anything about it, so why mention it?  Then, last night, I had shared something I didn’t have to, and he had felt compelled to do the same. He relaxed as I reassured him.

“Good! I’m glad. At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Are you sure? You're not hiding anything else?” I asked playfully.

“Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and my obsession with my hair?” He asked. He did have nice hair. “No, that’s it.  Just the prince thing.”

“So I should be calling you Prince Alistair?” I inquired, the smirk creeping across my face. He blushed before responding.

“I have no illusion about my status. It’s always been made very clear that I am a commoner, and now a Gray Warden, and in no way in line for the throne.” I thought that was a pity.  His whole life people had been telling him he wasn’t allowed to lead. No wonder he had deferred to me when his opportunity came. He was a good man. He would have made a good king. Alistair kept talking, but my mind had started turning. As a prince, Alistair could oppose Loghain with real authority.  Even if he didn’t want to be king himself, a claimant with the backing of royal blood could scare the traitor into making a deal. It wasn’t an option I was willing to part with just yet.

“So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some... nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.” He let out a breath, glad to be done with that conversation.  I stepped closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He stilled, but didn’t look at it like he had the last time I’d touched him.

“That’s not really what you think,” I asked. “Is it?”

“Well, no,” he admitted. He had the good sense to look sheepish. “What I really think is that I was lucky enough to have survived with you.”

He placed his hand over mine and squeezed gently.  This time it was my turn to still. His hand was warm and calloused, yet comforting. It covered mine easily, but wasn’t so big I thought he could crush my fingers.  His squeeze was gentle, too, the way you’d squeeze a fruit to test how ripe it was. Too quickly, he removed it.

“Solona,” Leliana call over.  She, Morrigan, Sten, and Barkspawn were gathered some ways up the road, talking to a man in a uniform.  

“That’s one of the militiamen, I think,” Alistair said.  “Their uniforms were always barely a step above peasant clothes.  I wonder what he wants.”

“Let’s find out,” I suggested, an uneasy feeling in my stomach.  The road had been too quiet on the approach. It was the middle of the day, yet we heard nothing of the bustle of what should be a thriving town market, as it was the middle of the day.  None of this boded well. “Do me a favor, though.”

“Anything,” he responded. 

“Keep one hand on your sword. I think there’s something very wrong in Redcliffe.”


	5. New Friends, Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redcliffe must be saved, and who better to do it than two fugitive Gray Wardens? Solona makes a new friend and turns to Leliana for advice. Then, in an effort to help her new friend, she runs into an old one, someone she had never expected to see again.

The trouble in Redcliffe was the dead.  They had been attacking the town every night for some time now.  The few villagers that remained had put up defenses, but without anyone with proper fighting skills, what hope did they have?  Alistair introduced me to Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon’s brother, and I quickly offered to help. I sent Sten to work with the militia, giving them fighting pointers, Leliana to set traps and gather supplies, and Morrigan to intimidate a local strong man into doing the brave thing.  She was good at that sort of thing. Alistair found his own task: locating a missing boy.

My job was to convince the blacksmith to do his job, and Bann Teagan escorted me there.  He was a handsome man in his upper thirties, his brown hair flecked with red, and piercing blue eyes.  He carried himself like an aristocrat, spoke like a scholar, and held his sword like a warrior. I was intrigued with him instantly. 

After promising to rescue the blacksmith’s daughter from the castle, and seeing him back to his forge, Teagan complimented me.

“You were very convincing,” he said. “If it were my daughter, I would have absolute faith in you.”

“I was convincing because I was honest,” I replied.

“You mean you actually think you can save her?” he asked with incredulity.  “What if she can’t be saved? Or what if you can’t find her?”

“I will rescue her,” I insisted.  If I allowed myself a moment to doubt now, I wasn’t sure what other doubts would creep in.  “And I will rescue everyone else in the castle.”

“I wish I had your faith,” Teagan sighed, shaking his head. “In any event, if I were that father, I would rally behind you.”

“Are you a father?” I asked.  I knew nothing about him, save that Alistair found him to be a good man.  I respected Alistair’s opinion, but I wanted to form my own.

“This is hardly the time to be discussing personal details, don’t you think. We will have to fight for our lives very shortly.” 

“Come now,” I prodded. “Is knowing a little about yourself too much to ask?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said, sighing.  I didn’t know why I was being so forward. Perhaps it was the way he called me a lady.  Or maybe it was the warmth in his eyes that arrived when I said I could help. Or maybe I was impressed that a lord who could easily flee to safety instead chose to fight alongside common people. “Where are my manners? What would you like to know?” 

“For starters, do you have a family?” I pressed. He offered me his arm, and I threaded my hand through the crook. 

“Do you mean, am I married?” he clarified. “I… No, no, I've never had the pleasure. If I did,” he turned his piercing blue eyes on me.  “I'd be lucky to find a woman as lovely as yourself.” 

I blushed at his compliment. Was this what all lords were like? Full of flattery? Or was I truly lovely? No one had ever called me that, not even Cullen. 

“If I may be so bold my lady, what of you?” he inquired. “Are you married?”

“I am a mage,” I replied simply. I had never given a thought to such a possibility before I left the circle. 

“Mages can marry,” Teagan said. “Or so I'm told.”

“I don't want to contradict you,” I cautioned. 

“But you're going to anyway?” he guessed. I smiled. He was charming. 

“Circle mages are not forbidden from marriage, but circle life makes such things practically impossible. Any relationship between mages that is more than friendly is frowned upon.” I refrained from telling him that one would be shipped to another country as punishment and prevention against more mage children. 

“And with non-mages?” he asked. 

“Most mages are never allowed outside, and few people come to visit.” 

“But you were allowed to leave. You became a Gray Warden. Surly the rules do not apply to you any longer. Could you marry, if you wished?” 

His stare had become intense, and my face was fully flushed. Was he suggesting something? No, he couldn't be. He was a lord, and I was a mage who had been given up by her parents. I could grant him no successful alliance, even as a Gray Warden.  I tried to laugh it off. 

“Who would be brave enough to marry me?” I asked. “What good reason could they find that would cause them to want to?” 

“I can think of several reasons to be that brave,” he said, his voice soft and low and staggering. I avoided his eyes, avoided seeing what lie within them. I wasn't sure I wanted what he was suggesting. “But I have grown too bold, and we have returned to the Chantry.” 

Alistair had already returned, as well, a small boy in one hand and a new sword in the other. The boy pulled free from Alistair and ran back to his worried sister, who embraced him enthusiastically. Alistair turned to us, and immediately eyed our proximity, my hand still tucked beneath Teagan's arm. 

“I see you two have become fast friends,” Alistair commented, his voice barely more than flat. “Having one last stroll before the dead rise to kill us all, are we?” 

Teagan didn't seem to notice the edge in Alistair's voice, but I did. It made me nervous. I needed to extricate myself. 

“This beautiful and charming woman convinced the blacksmith to get back to work,” Tegan told him. “We'll be well armed by nightfall.” 

“Is that all you did?” Alistair asked incredulously.  “That one task took both of you two hours? It must have been quite intensive.”

“I'm going to find Leliana,” I said, pulling my arm free. “I need to make sure she has everything ready. You two help Sten.” I tried not to flee, but couldn't help from moving away as fast as I could. I didn’t like the implication in his voice, and couldn’t fathom his motivation for making it.

I found Leliana spilling barrels of oil along the main road. She had devised quite the ingenious trap. 

“We're going to set it on fire,” she exclaimed. “And that's going to set them on fire.” 

“That's great,” I said unenthusiastically. 

“Oh, you love fire. I thought this would make you happy. What's wrong?” she asked. How much would it hurt to tell her? 

“Leliana, do you have much experience with men?” 

“What kind of experience?” she inquired, a smirk on her lips. “I assume you don't need my help killing them.” 

“No,” I agreed. “I've got that down. I mean in a more… Romantic sense, perhaps?”

“Perhaps? We have not even been here a day, and already you have suitors knocking down your door? I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. Men always go for the dangerous ones.” She sighed and shrugged. 

“Leliana, this is serious!” 

“It's really not,” she protested. “We could all die tonight. Do you really want to waste your time choosing between two mediocre men?”

“It's not about choosing one, it's about…” 

“What?” 

I huffed, then spoke. “What do they want? From me, I mean?” 

“Oh, dear,” she said, looking at me with the most pity in her eyes. “How sheltered were you in that Circle?”

“No, damnit. I know what it's like when a man wants that. His eyes can't find your face, and he touches you when no one else is looking.” Her face had grown deadly serious. Gone was the playful mocking, replaced by genuine concern. “But this is different. Confusing. I'm not sure what to make of it.” 

Leliana took a deep breath and sat on the side of the slope before speaking. “There are different types of men. Some want to possess you for their own edification. You already know what that looks like, it sounds like. Some like a woman they can serve, can pleasure. They, too, can be selfish, but they never cross any lines. That would ruin it for them. Some want beauty and spunk, but cannot hold on to it when they have it. Some want devotion and are willing to give it in return, but they tend to move at a glacial pace. So infuriating. Others don't want women at all. Or want men.”

“Well, that's… “

“Useless? I know,” she admitted. “What can you do when they all insist on being individuals? Why don't you tell me what you observed, and I'll help you come to conclusions.” 

As best I could, I relayed my conversation with Teagan without naming him. Then I mentioned Alistair's reaction, although that one I couldn’t give anonymously. Leliana thought for a moment before answering. 

“The man who talked of marriage is testing the waters, trying to see if it's warm enough to jump in. If you had rejected the idea of marriage outright, he would know not to waste his efforts. Older men tend to want to jump straight to marriage. They don't have as much energy to waste on courtship, and need to produce children, particularly when they are noble. But if you do not encourage him, I think he will leave you alone. 

“As for Alistair, he's a bit more tricky. Perhaps he knows the other man and finds him to be disreputable. Or, he feels a familial need to look out for you.”

“Familial? You mean, like a brother?” I ask. 

“Yes, but also in a more literal sense,” she clarified. “You belong to the same order, and a man coming in to distract you from your mission could be dangerous to the cause.”

“So, he's just worried about me staying focused on the Blight?”

“That seems most likely,” she agreed. “Of course, it's always possible he's fallen in love with you and felt insanely jealous of the other man.” 

She laughed so hard at that idea, that I had to laugh too, although I did not think it so ridiculous. The way he had looked at me this morning… I wouldn't discount the idea completely. 

“Poor Alistair,” she cried, wiping tears from her eyes. “If he does love you, please reject him publicly. It will be such good entertainment for Morrigan and I. No, sorry, that's cruel. Reject him privately, and then tell me all about it.”

I did not like either of her ideas. If he was in love with me, the last thing I would want to do would be cause him pain by rejecting him. It was irrelevant anyway, as he could not be. He knew all the ways I was broken. While he might respect, or even admire me, he was not now, and would not be in love with me. 

“Leliana, the sun is sinking. We must make sure we're ready for tonight.” She shook off the last of her merriment and followed me back down to the Chantry. Whatever Alistair felt, none of it would matter if we did not see the sunrise. 

To everyone's surprise, except, perhaps, mine, we did see the sunrise. In fact, our defense was so successful, we lost not a single fighter. Not a single of the dead even came close to touching the Chantry doors.  Leliana’s oil trap worked marvelously, and the monsters that rose from the lake faced a massacre. 

As the last of the morning dew evaporated, Teagan gathered us all on the steps of the Chantry.  He made a fine speech about bravery that roused the militia and townspeople before turning to single out my companions and I.  I felt hot under everyone’s gaze as I accepted the helm of his great uncle. I couldn’t turn down such an honorable gift, but I also couldn’t wear it, and we had so little room in our caravan for trophies of battle.  I couldn’t meet Teagan’s eyes, but I felt his hands linger on mine.

I sent most of my company off to sleep where they could.  I’m not sure where they all ended up, but in the warmth of the day, they could have curled up in a patch of sunlight and been content. Barkspawn was the only one who stayed with me. He had slept through Teagan's speech and so had energy enough. I thought I should sleep too, but was not ready to face the things that haunted my dreams. So, I wandered the village. 

Eventually, I made it to the mill that overlooked the village and Lake Calenhad. It was a beautiful sight, until I noticed that Teagan and Alistair also shared the view. They were arguing, but their voices were too low to carry to me, and they stopped when I came into view. 

“My Lady Solona,” Teagan called, waving me over. Alistair looked annoyed, his brows furrowed and low. “We were just discussing how marvelously you fight.”

“Really?” I asked in subtle disbelief.  “You seemed to be in disagreement.”

“Well,” Teagan began. “We were discussing our next move.” 

“Of course we were,” Alistair muttered. 

“I have a plan,” Teagan explained. He detailed a secret passage we could use to get into the castle and assess the menace within. His face grew more serious and worrisome as he spoke, fear for his brother mixing with determination to see this through. He had been torn between protecting the village and saving his kin. My victory last night allowed him to attempt both. 

A commotion came from just up the road, in the direction of the castle. A blond woman in fine garments came running toward us. The image was wrong, somehow. A woman that fine should never show such exertion. 

“Isolde!” Teagan cried, running to meet her. Alistair, Barkspawn and I followed. “You're alive. How did you… What has happened? “

The woman paused to catch her breath. I glanced at Alistair. This was the woman who had made him miserable as a child. Who had made him feel unwelcome in the only home he had ever known. I disliked her instantly. Up close, the wrinkles in her skin made her look much older and much less beautiful. She spun a tale of needing Teagan alone to return with her, her accent too sweet, her tale too light on details. I did not trust her. 

“You don't seem very concerned about what's happened here,” I mention, my eyes narrowed and staring straight through her. 

“What?” she scoffed, her eyes turning disdainful to gaze at me. Everything about her seemed suspicious. “I… Teagan, who is this woman?”

Alistair spoke up at my side, his voice tired. “You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?” 

“Alistair. Of all the…” she trailed off, deciding whatever unladylike remark she wanted to toss at him would not help her cause. “What are you doing here?” 

“They are Gray Wardens, Isolde,” Teagan explained, and my heart fluttered at his defense against her haughtiness. “And I owe them my life” 

She dropped the superior tone in her voice, but I couldn't miss the twitch in her cheek when she glanced at Alistair. She began again to convince Teagan, blaming the troubles on a mage and wielding her motherly concern like a well-placed dagger against his caution. Still, she was vague. She gave nothing concrete or actionable. Yet Teagan, responding to the call for an uncle's concern, looked like he was considering it. 

“Why do I get the feeling you aren't telling everything?” I interjected. Between the sympathy in Teagan's face and the resignation in Alistair's, it seemed I was the only one who saw through this woman's illusions. 

“I beg your pardon,” she snapped back, her haughty mask back in place. Both men frowned at me, but I wasn't backing down. “That's a rather impertinent accusation.”

“Not if it's true,” I replied, crossing my arms. 

“An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage,” she growled, her anger quivering her voice and watering her eyes. “I came for help. What more do you want from me.” 

I had lost here. If I continued to press her, the men would turn on me. As it was, Teagan was already lost to her manipulation. I could see it on his face as she begged him. When he agreed, I felt sick to my stomach. I pulled him aside before he could leave. 

“This is a mistake,” I pleaded. “You're going to get yourself killed.”

Teagan did not back down. It was his family, and he could not abandon them any more than he could have abandoned the villagers. I didn't like it, but I understood it. He pressed his signet ring into my hand, however, giving me whispered instructions on how to use it. Even if he faced death in the castle, he was giving me a way in, too. 

“I will rescue you all,” I finally told him before he left with Isolde. “I promise.” 

Once they were safely out of sight, I headed straight for the secret passageway. Alistair and Barkspawn followed me into the mill, but as I placed the ring in the lock, Alistair put his hand out. 

“Are you sure this is the best option?” he asked. “You haven't slept in over a day, and neither have I. We should get help.” 

“There's no time,” I replied, yanking open the trapdoor. “Teagan's life is at stake, as is Arl Eamon's. Stay if you wish. Get help if you wish. I'm going, and I'm going now.” 

Alistair pressed his lips together, but only hesitated for a moment before plunging down after me. Barkspawn followed. 

“Just once I'd like to do something that didn't involve getting cobwebs in my hair,” he complained. “And the humidity! If my hair curls, I will not be happy.” 

I smiled at his attempts at humor as we made our way down the passage. It must have run under the lake, judging by the moisture that ran down the walls of the passage. It took longer than I'd have liked, but we finally reached a staircase and could climb up. At the top, we found castle dungeons. But they weren't empty. 

Creatures like the ones we had fought the night before, vile dead corpses, rose the battle us, but there weren't many. Barkspawn lead the charge. He didn't even pant when he had finished. 

“Hello? Is there someone out there? Who is it?” called a soft male voice. It sounded familiar. I walked toward it, peeking in each cell until I found one that was occupied. “By all that's holy… it's you! I can't believe it.”

“Jowan!” I exclaimed, reaching for him. My friend. I had feared that if I ever saw him again, it would be his dead body, or live body and dead mind. My heart felt like it would burst. 

“Maker's breath! How did you get in here? I never thought I'd see you again, of all people.” His surprise at our reunion matched my own. 

“Jowan… What have they done to you?” I asked, our fingers twining with each other's through the bars. 

“What they do to all traitors and would be assassins,” he replied, his head hanging low in shame. “I wouldn't be surprised if they sent you to finish me off.”

He launched into the tale of how Loghain's agents had hired him to poison the Arl after Isolde had hired him to tutor her son in magic. My heart sank listening to him. I couldn't imagine the pressure he must have been under. Refusal of either the Arlessa or Loghain would have resulted in the Templar's being sent after him, which would inevitably end in his death. At the same time, I felt for Isolde, as well. She must love her son immeasurably to reject the Chantry's teachings and keep her son close at hand. If only she had found an apostate who actually knew how to teach, not a blood mage on the run who had never actually graduated from apprenticeship. When he asked after Lily, my heart broke to tell him her fate was unknown. 

“My entire life has been mistakes,” he finally said. “I've made such bad decisions.” 

He begged for help to fix his crimes. What friend would I be if I rejected his attempts at atonement? I told him, “Stand back. I'm going to break this lock.” 

“Wait,” Alistair said, putting a hand on my staff as I pointed it at the lock. “I know he's your friend, but he tried to kill Eamon. He's conspired with Loghain. And he's an apostate. He has committed crimes that cannot be overlooked.” 

“What crimes?” I asked, my face hot and my voice rising. “The first crime he committed was falling in love. The second, trying to live freely with her. The next crime was in breaking his bonds, and the fourth was survival. Let's not forget that Teyrn Loghain is a well-respected man, beloved even, and is currently ruling this country. What would you have done, in his shoes? What other options are there for us?”

The us I referred to did not include him. He was a bastard, sure, but a royal one. He had been given affection and protection in his youth and then placed into one powerful organization after another. His life had always mattered to other people, and so he always had options in his choices. He could choose the righteous path because his life never depended upon his choice between two evils. No, he chose the righteous path because he had the choice. But for those of us cast out from society, there is no choice. Perhaps once there had been; I was very young, and only newly made a mage, so my experience was limited. But in the Circle I inhabited, the only choice was what was more important to you: your life or your dignity. Jowan had chosen his dignity, time and time again. Even now, he was prepared to give his life for it. I wouldn't let that happen if I could. 

“If you don't remove your hand,” I hissed. “I will blast it off along with the lock.” 

He drew back his appendage and moved away from me in addition. I first froze the lock, then shattered it with a concentrated blast of heat.  The cell door swung open, and Jowan stood free, if sallow, thin, and bruised. 

“What will you do now?” I asked him. 

“I will try to help, if I can,” he replied. “I will find a way to fix this, somehow.” 

I believed him. He had within him the same determination I did. It was why we had become such close friends, despite everything. “If you follow this passage, it will lead to Redcliffe mill. Stay there until it is safe to re-enter the castle. Find Leliana, and she will help you. I'll see you soon.” 

He almost dashed off, but at the last minute turned back and wrapped his arms around me. I saw Alistair tense, ready to attack, but I threw my arms around Jowan, hugging him in return. We squeezed each other tightly, like I wished we had done the last time we parted. The comfort he had always given me flooded my memory, and suddenly I ached for the days we had spent huddled together in a far corner of the library, eagerly trading fantastic stories and salacious gossip. The days when we didn't yet understand the violence that would follow us. The days before we worried about our harrowings, about tranquility, about being forced to live a life we did not choose for ourselves. 

I let him go, tears in my eyes. I did not turn back to Alistair until he had rounded a corner in the passage, and I could no longer see nor hear him. Alistair watched me with an unreadable expression. 

“What? No witty one-liners for this?” I spat. I was still angry with him for trying to stop me. It probably wasn't fair or kind, but I was too tired to coddle his feelings. 

“I was just thinking that we still have people to save in the castle,” he said quietly, not a hint of humor in his voice. “We should probably get moving.”


	6. Return to Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona returns to the Circle Tower to find it in crisis. While there, she faces more than one demon.

The wind off Lake Calenhad whipped my hair across my face. It needed to be rebraided, but I didn't have time. If I put it off long enough, perhaps Leliana would get frustrated and just do it for me. I glanced at her. She was wide awake and on edge, playing absentmindedly with one of her daggers. Alistair was similarly restive and had pestered the Templar ferryman with a dozen impertinent questions since we had boarded. Only Sten stood silent and stoic, as usual. I envied him that. 

I was dog tired. No, that wasn't accurate, because Barkspawn was never tired. I wished for the comfort of his presence, but I thought it best to keep him and his intuitive aggressiveness from those who still struck terror into my heart. Morrigan stayed behind too. As an apostate, and not a Gray Warden, there was nothing protecting her from the Templars in the Circle. She had scoffed at my caution, claiming they were too inferior to even notice a powerful apostate among them, but she had stayed behind anyway. 

If only I could have stayed behind too. Things were not settled in Redcliffe. A demon had its grip on Connor, and while Jowan's solution could save him from possession without sacrificing his life, it required more power than any of us had lyrium for. One option was to sacrifice Isolde using blood magic. But Alistair had nearly gotten sick at the thought, and as much as I disliked Isolde, I didn't think it fair to punish her for simply loving her son. Nor was it fair to deprive Arl Eamon of his wife, especially since I had a feeling the Templars would come for Connor soon, no matter what. Of course, that was assuming Eamon survived after the demon perished. That left one option: return to the Circle to seek their aid. 

It was the last thing I wanted to do. I wouldn't have, except… Seeing Teagan manipulated by the demon, seeing Isolde so desperate, seeing Alistair so frightful… I couldn't say no. I had to save everyone. Too many had been lost already. 

Lake Calenhad docks were less than a day’s hard ride from Redcliffe.  Horses were borrowed from one of the villagers, and we set out as soon as they were saddled.  I was nearing two full days awake by the time we got to the docks, Alistair too, so it took me a moment to realize that the usual ferryman, Kester, had been replaced by a Templar. I knew then something was terribly wrong.  Kester didn’t give up his boat for anything; his stubbornness was a constant complaint among the Templars that came and went from the Circle.

“Is that a spot of rot?” Alistair accused.  “Do you not maintain your boats? What if we all fall through the bottom? I’m wearing heavy armor.  I’ll sink like a rock.” He swung around to where Sten stood and pointed. “So will he. Not because of the armor, mind you.  He’s just as dense as a mountain. Come to think of it, he might actually be part mountain. And part dragon. And part battering ram.  And part stone wall.”

Sten growled low in response. The Templar didn’t respond at all, but looked annoyed.  He hadn’t said a word since we convinced him to take us to the tower. I’m sure that had nothing to do with me threatening to have Sten tear his arms off.  Templars had no fear of mages, but a massive Qunari warrior? It would be hard to find anyone unintimidated by that.

The Circle of Magi were house- caged- in a massive tower that rose into the sky to pierce the sun- or moon, as that was what hung in the sky at this early hour of the morning.  It sat on an island, cut off from the rest of Ferelden by the waters of Lake Calenhad. Once, it had been called Kinloch hold, built by Avvars and dwarves as an impenetrable fortress.  Then, Tevinter had penetrated it, and drove the Avvar south. I wasn’t entirely sure what the intervening history was, as I always seemed to fall asleep at that point in the lecture, but eventually, it was repurposed to be one of three- now two- Circles of Magi in Ferelden.  And within it, it housed all of my nightmares. Except the darkspawn ones.

The tower was remarkably quiet on the inside, but once we entered, we saw the chaos.  It seemed half the Circle’s assigned Templars had gathered into the lobby and were making preparations frantically.  Things were being packed. Orders were being shouted. Men ran this way and that, their shiny armor clicking as they moved, their boots pounding out a cacophony that grated against my ears.  In the center of it all, Gregoir stood.

“The doors are barred,” Alistair observed. “Are they keeping people out, or  _ in _ .”

Judging from the complete lack of mages, I had my suspicions as to which it was.  Gregoir finally noticed the newcomers in his midst, then narrowed his eyes when he recognized me.  I didn’t need to be afraid of him anymore. I was a Gray Warden, no longer under his control. Additionally, I had a Templar-trained Warden and a Chantry lay-sister as my companions.  If nothing else, I had an intimidating Qunari to stand at my back, although I should probably stop using him as a weapon of intimidation.

“What is going on here?” I demanded of Gregoir, with all the authority I could muster coating my voice.  It worked. Surprise showed on his face, and the aggressive way he walked abruptly changed to a more diplomatic gait.

“You have returned, I see,” he said. “A true Gray Warden, then? Not come to answer for your crimes?”

“I have committed no crimes,” I replied, trying to keep my voice strong and free from the outrage I felt boiling up within me.

“You aided a blood mage.  If Jowan hadn’t escaped, you’d both be Tranquil by now.” His words were accusatory, but he strove to be as emotionless as I about it.  We were both only failing slightly. The same couldn’t be said for my companions.

“A blood mage? Jowan?” Alistair sputtered at the same time Leliana cried, “Tranquil? But you couldn’t?”  I ignored them both.

“I have come to see the First Enchanter,” I stated.  “My mission is of great importance. The fate of Ferelden hangs in the balance, and you will not obstruct me.”

“Well, you’re out of luck,” Gregoir said, leaning back on his heels.  “The Circle’s overrun with maleficar and abominations. The First Enchanter is either dead or possessed.  I’ve sent word to Denerim for reinforcements and the Rite of Annulment. Once it gets here, we’ll purge this place of demon influence.”

“The Rite of Annulment?” I exclaimed, losing any composure I had.  “You can’t. There could still be innocent mages trapped inside. It would be murder.”

“It would be my divine right as Knight-Commander,” he corrected me.  “And as far as I’m concerned, there are no innocent mages. Only ones that haven’t turned yet.”

I was incensed.  He could not kill everyone.  Without the Circle, we would never get enough lyrium to save Connor. And the Circle might have been a prison that drove many mad, but it was also a place of great learning, and mages deserved better than to be abandoned and betrayed at every step of the way.  I deserved better. Alistair seemed to think so too.

“You took a vow to protect these people,” he implored.  “You can’t abandon them when they need you the most. It’s your duty!”

“It’s my duty to protect the good people of Ferelden,” Gregoir countered. “If that means a couple hundred mages die, then so be it.  Better them than normal people dying at the hands of demons or some blood magic ritual.”

“A couple hundred?” Leliana asked. “The Chantry does not abandon the Maker’s children, and make no mistake, mages are as much children of the Maker as anyone else.”

Her tone was biting, but my heart rose in response.  It was an inappropriate time for reflection, but I couldn’t help but marvel at the situation I had found myself in: a former Templar and a faithful Chantry lay-sister as stalwart champions. Only a few months ago, that pairing would have struck fear into my very bones. Now, it gave me the courage to do what is right.

“If you won’t save them, I will,” I informed Gregoir.

“If you enter the tower, you’re not coming out,” he warned me.  “And whatever you do, when word is given by the Grand Cleric, this place will be cleansed.”

“Even if I save everyone?” I questioned.  “Even if I do your job for you, and clear the tower of abominations and malificar, and save the innocent in the process?  Even then, you will strike them down?”

Gregoir lips pursed together.  He eyed me, then Alistair, Leliana, and Sten.  I’m not sure if he was judging our success rate or the possible consequences of us standing in his way, but it didn’t take him long to come to a solution. “If First Enchanter Irving comes to that door and swears that order has been restored, then I will stand down.  It is all I can offer you.”

I took his offer.  I readied my staff and headed for the great doors as the Templars rushed to open them.  I stopped when I heard only two sets of boots following me, and turned back.

Sten had not moved. I turned back to him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Your mission,” he replied.  “You should do what this man cannot.  Purge the fortress and all of Thedas of these mages.”

“ _ I _ am a mage,” I said, heat flushing my face.  Sten cocked his head slightly before continuing.

“You are a Gray Warden, and that is different...somehow.  These bas saarebas have no control, freely run around infecting others with their evil.  Your kind gives them far too much freedom, and now the price must be paid. I will aid you to cut them down, but I will not save them.”

I had not the energy nor patience to convince him.  “Fine,” I spat. “Stay behind. I do not need the blade of someone who is disloyal.”

Alistair whistled uncomfortably.  Leliana cleared her throat. I gave them no heed.  Sten did not move, but I could not stand still. Every minute wasted was another mage dead.  Another moment given to the Desire demon possessing Connor. Another death I could prevent. I would deal with Sten when it was over.  I turned on my heel and marched through the doors and into the tower.

Our way was not easy.  We found innocents quickly, being protected by the aging Wynne from a Rage Demon.  When we informed her of Gregoir's plan, she insisted on helping. I couldn’t deny her.  She had been at the battle of Ostagar, had seen Loghain’s treachery and survived to inform the Circle and had felled a Rage demon single-handedly.  Beyond that, she had decades more experience than me and was an immensely powerful healer. If nothing else, she would keep us alive where without her we would fall.

The deeper we traveled into the tower, the more enemies we faced and the fewer innocent we found.  There were indeed blood mages within. I had no fear of nor disgust for blood magic, but I did not entirely trust it.  Jowan was a blood mage, and I loved him as a brother. But these had their minds turned toward evil intents. I tried to talk them down when I could, but most forced my hand, and I slew as many of them as I did demons and true abominations.  It was the first time I had been forced to kill other humans. It made me numb. Still higher we climbed.

By the fourth floor, I was completely drained. Alistair was too, and more and more we relied on Leliana’s blades and Wynne to do the heavy lifting.  My mind, too exhausted to think straight, started to mix up spells, casting ice where I had intended fire. Fears also began to cloud my reason. I still hadn’t seen Cullen.  I expected him around every corner, though how I would find him, I couldn’t guess. Was he the thrall of some desire demon that had appeared in my form, whispered to him all the things I would never say? Was he still valiantly fighting, taking on the role of hero he had always envisioned for himself?  Or was he dead, a cold corpse for me to trip over?

We encountered another Desire demon, but I couldn’t fight anymore.  I attempted to reason with it, but when it became clear that the thrall would die if it did, I let them both go.  No one, not even Alistair protested.

We entered the next room, intending to find our way into the Harrowing chamber, but my arms and feet felt like lead.  Beside me, Alistair’s grip on his shield slipped, and his blade clattered to the floor. Someone complained of being too tired in a soft, feminine, Orlesian-accented voice.  Someone else mentioned how comfortable the floor looked. They were right. It was inviting and warm, and if I just laid down, I could get some rest. Find this Uldred, this master blood mage, when I woke.  The stones felt like the softest feather bed. Made for me. I slept.

Sloth demons always take a gamble when they trick a mage.  Some of us fall easily for the tricks of the Fade, but some, like me, see through the illusions and recognize them for what they are.  My Harrowing had not been so long ago that I forgot what it felt like. I knew the Fade. I had mastered it once. I would do it again.

My companions, on the other hand, were not as adept.  Tearing Alistair away from his dream life as doting uncle without a care in the world proved to be most difficult.  By comparison, Leliana and Wynne were far easier to convince. It was only when I had freed the three of them from their illusions were we able to slay the sloth demon that held us captive.

When my consciousness returned to my body, I awoke slowly.  I felt the grogginess of being asleep for too long, but my muscles felt rested and fresh.  I stretched, and as I did, the hard thing I was lying on moved as well. It was not the floor, as I had assumed, but rather Alistair’s breastplate.  I had stretched myself against him and draped my head and arms across his torso. As far as pillows go, I had had worse… but I had also had better. We met eyes blearily and found relief in them.  Surviving the Fade and a Sloth demon were no easy tasks. 

Alistair allowed me to push myself to my feet before rising himself.  Our companions were also rousing nearby. I did not know how long we had slept, but it didn’t matter.  We couldn’t go back. We needed to find Irving, alive, or we would perish here no matter what. 

“You won’t tell anyone?” Alistair whispered to me.

“Your dreams are my secret,” I promised.  My own dreams were also secret. Dreams of being trapped in the tower, Cullen slowly crossing every line I had until I belonged to him, until I broke.  I hadn’t yet found him in the waking world, however, and that worried me as much as anything else.

I finally found him, trapped in a magical prison before the steps to the Harrowing chamber.  He looked miserable. My soul was torn. The compassionate part of me ached to see another human in such torment, but deep within my soul, I felt joy at his suffering.  He was trapped, just as he had trapped me. He was suffering, driven mad, just as he had done for me. It was the scales of justice balancing before my eyes.

“This trick again? I know what you are. It won’t work. I will stay strong.”

“Cullen, you don’t recognize me?” I questioned, disbelieving. I wasn’t sure if he answered me, or if he answered some other call I could not hear.  He speech was close to raving, as he begged me, or something, to kill him.

“Sifting through my thoughts…” he growled.  “Tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have...

He saw me.  He recognized me.  He just thought I was a Desire Demon.  I could only assume it was because they took my form to seduce him. His Fade dream would have been the same as mine, except from the other perspective. I fought back the bile as it rose in my throat.

Once more he tried to banish me, and when I did not vanish, realization began to dawn in his bloodshot, frantic eyes.

“Cullen,” I began, in as gentle a voice I could muster.  He was trapped. He could not get to me, and so I was safe.  I did not need to go on the offensive. I just needed to remember that, and stop all the muscles in my body from contracting, ready to flee or fight.

“Solona, can it really be you?” he asked, stepping to the edge of his magical prison. Out of instinct, I took a step back, angling my body away from him, looking down at his boots than at his face. When he pounded his fist against its wall, I flinched visibly.  “Have you sided with the blood mages? Are you one of them? Has the temptress come to seduce me and sacrifice me?”

“Cullen, we are not with the blood mages,” Wynne said, her voice soothing and gentle, as if he would break at a harsh word.  Perhaps he would. Perhaps the Desire demon had broken his mind so that he saw enemies where before he saw only victims.

“Why would you return if not to join them?” he spat. I could feel his eyes upon me, but I would not meet them. “I am not so foolish as to think you would return to me.  It took your absence to see how cold you were, how you toyed with me, letting me believe you cared for me. Now I see you are no different than the rest.”

“I think you have endured great suffering,” I said softly.  I sensed Alistair move to stand behind me, not touching me, but giving a solid presence at my back.  “I think it has warped your mind.”

“I don’t care what you think.  Maker knows my sin, and I pray that he will forgive me.”

“The Maker forgives all his children if they seek redemption,” Leliana said, moving to put her body between him and I.  “What sin would you like him to forgive? I am a lay-sister. I will pray with you.”

But Cullen could not see her.  He could not see anyone except me.  He looked like a mad man, more unhinged than I had ever seen him.  He had done terrible things to me, but he believed himself to be a fundamentally good person, and he prided himself on discipline and lawfulness.  Was this the true monster that had always laid beneath the chiseled exterior? Or could this have happened to anyone left long enough in the clutches of a demon? 

“You have watched me for years, Cullen.  You cannot believe I would hurt anyone maliciously.  Last time we met, your actions indicated your….” I choked on the words, my stomach turning. “Affection… for me.  Has that truly changed?”

“You are a mage, and I am a Templar.  It is my duty to oppose you and all you are,” he shouted in response.  He finally turned from me, pacing the short length of his translucent cell with his head in his hands. When he spoke again, it was with a voice of resignation.  “It was the foolish fancy of a naive boy. I know better now.”

Now.  He knew better now.  Now, after all he had put me through.  Now, after he had stalked me in dreams and in waking, after he had put his hands and mouth on me unbidden, unwanted, after he had trapped and bruised me and made me despair the place I once called home.  I was glad if he no longer sought to possess me, but under the circumstances, I could not trust that to be true. And even if it was, it did not absolve him of his past actions. He sought the Maker’s forgiveness, but he should have sought mine.

“Warden,” Alistair spoke, his voice formal, yet soft. “We must move on.  The Harrowing chamber is just ahead, and we must save the mages within.”

“Save them?” Finally, Cullen had become aware of the others in the room.  His eyes landed angrily on Alistair. “They are all abominations. If you are not with the blood mages, then you must destroy them! You can’t save them.  You know what they’ve become.”

“I will not kill innocents,” I told him, squaring my shoulders and attempting to look him in the eyes. I made it as far as his chin.

“Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk?” he scoffed. “To ensure this horror is ended, to guaranteed that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill  _ everyone _ up there.”

“I’d rather let five malificar live than harm one innocent,” I replied calmly. I had killed more mages than I cared for already.  I would not do it again if I had any doubt. On this, I would not waver. Nothing he could threaten would sway me.

He did threaten me. But Leliana and Alistair flanked me as we passed him and climbed the stairs.  Wynne brought up the rear, muttering about foolish young men thinking they new the solution to every problem. I knew a fierce battle awaited me on the other side, but I had survived the one I had feared the most since the moment I left Redcliffe.  I wished I had faced him with the fire of indignation and forced him to confront his crimes, but I knew that simply persisting was more than I had been capable when I had left. I could always confront him again later, once my courage had found its way back into my bones.

In the meantime, I had friends at my side I could rely on, and mages to save.  I would not fail that, either.


	7. Not All Monsters Can Be Slain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and Alistair rest, their friendship blossoming. Before they can resume their journey, however, Solona must face her demons one last time and learn that she has the power to save herself.  
> CW: Sexual Assault

I woke up in a soft bed, the smell of herbs and incense wafting over me.  I opened my eyes to see the cream-colored silk of a canopy. I rolled to my side and saw the standard decor of a mage’s quarters.  I was still in the tower, then.

I only vaguely remembered what had occurred after defeating the Pride demon that usurped Uldred’s body.  Irving and Gregoir arguing. Alistair explaining the situation with the Blight and at Redcliffe. Something about lyrium supplies and Wynne scolding someone intently. Then Alistair’s voice telling me to rest. The soft, soothing sounds of his voice.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.  I needed to get up. We still had to return to Redcliff and save Connor, if we could.  We had already delayed too long. I threw off the covers and swung my feet over the edge.  They sunk into the floor.

“Oof,” it said.

I stared down at it.  My eyes hesitated to focus, but eventually I realized that it was not the floor that lay beneath me, but the body of a man.  He wore only a simple tunic and small clothes, the kind designed to fit under the leather padding of heavy armor. His body was broad and tall, and a smattering of sandy-colored scruff had sprouted on his tawny chin. Alistair. 

“Well, good morning, Solona,” he purred.  “I don’t think I’ve ever woken to a more beautiful woman crushing the air out of me.”

I stared at him.  Why was he on the floor? Had he slept there?  It didn’t matter. We needed to get moving.

“We have to get to Redcliffe,” I said.  “We still need to perform Jowan’s ritual.”

“Well, I can’t go anywhere until you move your feet,” Alistair pointed out.  I refocused on the ends of my legs. My uncovered feet were indeed still pressing into his stomach.  That was when I noticed the rest of my legs were uncovered, too. My linen undertunic was all the clothing I wore, and now that I had tossed aside the blankets, I was far too bare for comfort.

“Where are my robes,” I worried aloud, pulling my feet up and back under the coverings.  It was warmer there than the cold air, anyway. Alistair sat up before answering.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen nothing of your legs.  Leliana was the one who undressed you, with your help, I might add,” he responded.  He propped one arm on the bed and rested his chin upon it, gazing at me with interest. “You tried to manage it yourself, but you fell into a side table and sent some cups rolling across the floor.  She was afraid you’d hurt yourself without help.”

“Can you go get them?” I asked.  “We cannot waste any more time. We don’t know what could have transpired in our absence.”

“Oh, you mean with the demon possessing Connor? I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Excuse me?” Surely I had misheard him. He couldn’t possibly be treating this so cavalierly.  Where was his urgency? Did he no longer care what happened to Arl Eamon’s son.

“Do you remember nothing from before you passed out?” he inquired, a quizzical expression on his face.  

“I remember...talking,” I started, then paused.  I remembered the battle clearly, but everything after felt fuzzy.  Blurry images and sounds all jumbled together into an indecipherable puzzle. “Or listening to talking, perhaps?”

“Well, that’s not very coherent,” Alistair exclaimed. “I could tell you a giant chicken came through the front doors to grant us all enormous fortunes, and you couldn’t even call me a liar.”

“Yes, I could,” I snapped.  Why did he have to tease? Couldn’t he just tell me what happened? “Are you going to be helpful or annoying?”

“I’m not sure,” he murmured, a slow smile brightening his face.  “It might be fun to draw it out a bit.”

“Alistair, I swear to Andraste,” I growled.  “I will freeze all of your socks for the rest of your life if you don’t start talking.”

“You're cute when you get all irritable. You get this little knot between your…” he trailed off as I glared at him, using my best staffless spellcasting to coalesce a thin layer of ice on his toes. “Nevermind.”

I let the ice recede, and he began to explain.

“You could hardly stand, let alone walk,” he said.  “You were spectacular in battle. I’d never seen so many fireballs thrown so fast.  But once we returned Irving to the lobby, all the energy seemed to leave you. We sort of… came to the decision that you should rest here, before returning to Redcliffe. Not that you didn’t try. But you couldn’t keep a firm grip on your staff.  There was no way you’d be able to ride.”

“And Connor? I agreed to just let him wait?” I asked, frowning.

“No, not at all,” he reassured me.  “Once things had been explained to Irving, he didn’t hesitate to gather the lyrium stores, and they set out right away.  It’s probably done by now. Either they succeeded, or they failed. Rushing to Redcliffe won’t change the outcome.”

“But Jowan was going to cast the spell, and I was going to enter the Fade. Without me, who would do that?”

“You do know you’re not the only mage in Ferelden, right?” 

I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m not convinced Morrigan would volunteer for such a trial.  And Irving is powerful, as First Enchanter, but after Uldred, he wouldn’t have the energy.”

“Wynne seemed to indicate she would be the one entering the Fade.  She is very determined,” he said. “I’m not saying I’m intimidated by her, but she does remind me of a Chantry sister who used to check my school work and make me write lines for each mistake.”

A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding released, and I let myself sink back into the soft mattress.  The crisis was over. Redcliffe was either lost or safe, but it was out of my hands now. No one’s fate rested upon my actions.  Except for the Blight, I had no looming disaster threatening to overwhelm me. I could sleep for days, if I wanted to. I almost wanted to.

“Wait,” I said, rolling to my side to face him. “That explains why I’m here.  Why are you still here?”

“Well,” he thought, looking up through his eyebrows.  He seemed to do that when he didn’t want to answer straight.  “I was tired too. Leliana had rested before we left Redcliffe.  Wynne, before we arrived here. But neither you nor I had had a proper sleep, the Sloth nightmares notwithstanding.  I wasn’t going to make it all the way to Redcliffe either.”

His story sounded plausible, but I didn’t believe him.  Alistair had had a decade of physical training for the Templars.  He had the endurance of a true warrior. I had lived my entire life in a tower until recently, and most of my exercises since then had consisted of walking from town to town and occasionally twirling my staff around.  Alistair had far more endurance than I. I did not believe for a second that he had stayed behind because he was tired.

“So you wanted to rest, and the best place for you to do that was beside my bed, not in a bed of your own?” I challenged.  The tips of his ears went a little pink.

“Well, I, uh…” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it and making it stand on end. Finally he offered, “It’s a very comfortable floor. And there aren’t a lot of open beds, at least not ones without bodies still nearby.  And I don’t think the Templars like me much, especially not that Cullen, so I figured it was safer for me in here, where you could protect me.”

Cullen. That was the reason Alistair had slept on my floor.  Perhaps the others were also true, but it was Cullen’s presence that had made him stay behind with me.  It was Cullen that had inspired him to stay close. I was at once embarrassed and grateful. I had never named Cullen as my abuser, but Alistair would have been a fool not to connect the dots after seeing how I reacted to him on the fourth floor.  And Alistair only ever pretended to be a fool.

“Come join me,” I urged him, moving farther away from the edge to make space for him.  The pink on his ears spread to the rest of his face.

“Uh, not that I’m not flattered by the offer, but…” he started.

“No, on top of the covers,” I clarified.  “There’s no sense in you staying on the floor.  We’ll be as close as we have been around the fire, at camp.”  He still hesitated, but he slowly rose to his feet and crawled onto the bed, stretching out beside me.  

I realized immediately how wrong I had been.  This was not like the campfire. The bed sank beneath our weight, and we couldn’t help but roll slightly closer.  On his side, facing me, I could feel his breath lightly brush across my skin. He stared at my nose, but I gazed into his eyes, warm and the color of dried nutmeg. I felt impossibly close to him, not like we were inches away, but like we were inhabiting the same space. Goosebumps rose along my arms, but it wasn’t from the cold.  It was from him. It wasn’t fear, exactly. It was… excitement? Anticipation? Like something was about to happen, yet the moment before it did would stretch into eternity. He closed his eyes, and I closed mine as well and just listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

I woke again to the sound of knocking.  This time, my eyes did not open to the sight of the canopy, but to the darkness of being enfolded within someone’s arms.  In my sleep, my body had crept closer to Alistair, and now my forehead pressed into his chest, my hands tucked under my chin, and his arm slung over me.  He smelled earthy.

The knocking sounded again, and this time it roused Alistair. He grumbled and rolled on his back, freeing me from the cocoon of his arms. It was a cage I didn’t entirely want to leave.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair cried, vigorously rubbing his eyes.  “What do you want?”

Whoever had been knocking must have heard him and taken his complaint as an invitation. The door opened and the knocker marched inside, along with another pair of boots.  I pulled the covers up to my chin, suddenly very aware that I was sharing a bed with a man I had no claim on. Yes, he lay on top of the covers, but it was enough of a predicament to cause tongues to wag.  I peeked over the blankets to identify the intruders.

Gregoir stood at the foot of the bed.  Cullen flanked his left shoulder.

“I didn’t actually invite you in,” Alistair complained, rising to a sitting position.  He, at least, didn’t look embarrassed. He gave the two men a hard look. “So you better have something important to say.”

“Deepest apologies, Wardens,” Gregoir said dryly.  “We’ve had news from Redcliffe. The Arl’s son is safe.  Irving will return post-haste.”

“Oh, well that is important to know,” Alistair conceded.  “Once Irving returns, we’ll be out of your hair, Knight-Commander. Until then, we’ll just keep to ourselves.”

Gregoir was professional, and didn’t let his eyes slide over to where I lay, mostly obscured by blankets.  But Cullen did. He stared hard at me, as if trying to communicate some hidden message, but I didn’t know what it meant.  Did he still see me as a temptress? Did he mean it when he said he no longer desired me? Did he feel guilty for his actions?

“If you need anything at all,” Gregoir concluded. “Templar Rutherford will assist you.  Feel free to call on him.”

Gregoir gestured to Cullen, and then he unceremoniously left.  Cullen hung behind, awkwardly shifting his gaze between Alistair and me.  He looked like he was working up to say something that would taste bitter in his mouth as it left his lips.  

“I would like to clarify any confusion caused by our encounter near the Harrowing chamber,” he finally uttered, his eyes finally resting on the foot of the bed.  “I have the utmost respect of Gray Wardens, and if that was not accurately conveyed, I can only blame the stress of the situation. I was not myself. Please expect a much higher level of decorum from me in the future.”

I pulled the blankets down to uncover my face and studied him.  A muscle in his jaw was flexing. Did Gregoir order him to say that?  If not, what in Thedas was he trying to say? Did he mean specifically his behavior?  Or was he taking back everything he said, too?

“Well, if you’re not too busy, we do have a request,” Alistair interrupted my thoughts.  “I’m not sure what you know about our order, but we require a lot of food. Like, a lot. A couple of whole chickens, each.  We don’t want to eat you out of house and...tower, but trust me, it’s better to feed us than risk us wandering the halls consuming anything remotely edible.  Flowers. Small pets. Pictures of fruit.”

Cullen’s brows knit together.  The two men were foils of each other.  Where Cullen was reserved and controlled, mostly, Alistair was boisterous, genial, and completely unfiltered.  He made Cullen uneasy with his free and common speech, and it made a smile tug at the corners of my lips. Alistair seemed the fool, at times, but only when it served him.  Or amused him, as I guessed was the case here.

“Also cheese,” I whispered to Alistair.  I was loud enough for Cullen to hear, but Alistair repeated my request loudly anyway. Cullen didn’t say anything in return, but clenched his jaw, nodded to us, and left.  Alistair flopped back on the bed.

“You know, I found him quite charming when he was raving at us about blood mages, but now, barely holding himself together with civility, I don’t think I can resist him.”  I giggled at his assessment, and he turned his head to smile at me. It was an easy, toothy smile. It made my heart constrict.

“I didn’t even realize how hungry I am,” I told him.

“I guessed you would be,” he said.  “It’s a Warden thing. You’re ravenously hungry for most of the first year. I estimate I’ve got about three months left before I can eat in public again.  Although, being in public doesn’t seem to stop you from devouring things whole.”

My face blushed, and I buried it in the pillow, my long black hair falling over my face, shielding me from his teasing barbs.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he soothed.  “I like a girl with a healthy appetite.”

“I’m overjoyed,” I mumbled into my pillow with as little emotion as possible.

“Okay, so my approval isn’t worth much,” he interpreted.  “But you have it anyway.”

I turned back to him and sat up, trying to push back the masses of hair that hung over my eyes.  I contradicted him, “It is worth much. Yours is one of the few opinions that can still influence me.  I’m trying to be more… commanding. More decisive. Less of a doormat. But I still value what you think. Very much.”

Now it was his turn to blush.  He, too, rose to a seated position, crossing his legs before him and looking at me with interest.  A few strands still hung in my eyes, and he made as if to move them, then withdrew his hand. I let them still hang where they were.

“I wasn’t ready to be a leader,” he said softly.  “When everything happened at Ostagar. I forced that mantle on you, even though nothing suggested I’d be any worse at it than you.  But I chose to follow you, and Morrigan did too. And Leliana. And Sten. And with them, I see that you are kind and welcoming and generous, but also firm and...commanding, was it?”

His eyes bore into me.  What did he see there?

“I don’t know what you were like here in the circle, how others treated you, or how you responded to them.” He looked to the door, where Cullen had left.  “I don’t think you’ve ever been a doormat. I think you’ve always been powerful, and perhaps some have.. Targeted you for it. But it was never a deficiency of yours.  It was always theirs. I would follow you into the Fade, into the deep roads, into death itself. If you value my opinion, then know that of you, it is the highest.”

“Except for the eating?” I asked, trying to break through the heavy weight that had settled on my heart and threatened to spill tears from my eyes.  It was too much, and I was too hungry to respond properly.

“I already told you, the eating is respectable.  As is the wild hair you wear now. Much more impressive than your usual braids.”  
“You don’t like my braids?” I asked in mock offense.

“No, I do,” Alistair defended.  “They look very nice. They also look nice on about half the Chantry sisters I’ve ever met.”

I gasped in full mock outrage.  “I can’t believe you would say such a thing.  I cannot stand to be a moment longer around someone so impertinent.”  I pushed the covers off my legs and got out of the bed, grabbing a set of robes that had been folded nearby and tugging it on over my tunic.

“Wait, are you really leaving?” Alistair asked, his face suddenly showing real concern.  “I really do like them, I promise.”

“I know,” I laughed.  “I’m just very thirsty, and I think there’s a storeroom near here.  I’ll just grab some mead and be back soon.”

He sighed and visibly relaxed.  I was still smiling as I exited the room

The storeroom was just down the hall.  The handle was completely broken, smashed with some sort of spell, so the door had to be pried open at the edges.  Inside were shelves full of bottles, herbs, crystals, linens, and a handful of brooms. Some of the bottles had fallen and smashed, and I had to pick my way carefully through the broken glass.  There was still plenty of mead, though. I picked a bottle at random, and turned back to the door.

Cullen blocked my way.  I hadn’t heard him come up behind me, but there he was, staring at me with a blank, emotionless face.

“Templar Rutherford,” I greeted him, inclining my head slightly and clutching the bottle to my chest.

“A few months, and you’ve forgotten my name?” he asked.  “Or is it just now that you’re in bed with a Gray Warden, you think I’m beneath you?”

Heat crept up the back of my neck as he took a step forward.  My mind went back to its old habit, calculating the responses that would get me out of his presence the quickest. 

“I thought you said your… affections for me were misplaced,” I finally offered.  “You said you knew better.”

“I do know better,” he snapped, anger creeping into his face. “Know how all you mages hate the Templars who protect you, and how you seduce us, try to bend us to your will.”

Again, he took a step forward.  The distance between us was closing, and I could not step back myself without getting a foot full of glass shards.

“All I wanted was to love you, care for you,” he pleaded, his face growing almost desperate.  “And you abandoned me. You took what you wanted and left. Do you know how you wounded me?”

“Please, Cullen, I didn’t have a choice,” I begged.

“You could have come back to me, after Ostagar.  Wynne returned. Why didn’t you?” He was so close now, I couldn’t sense anything but his presence looming in front of me.  “It was because of that other Warden, wasn’t it? You found someone else to wrap around your finger. And you let him closer to you than you ever…” 

He trailed off, his lips close to my temple, his breath disturbing my loose hair.  He breathed deeply, and I felt his hands come to rest on my arms. I remembered the bruises he had left the last time he held me.  

“It is me that should be in your bed.  It should have always been me.” He kissed me gently, his lips pressing against my forehead.  Then another, on my cheek. His hands circled my upper arms, and he squeezed me tight to him. I felt the tears well up and begin to spill over.

“Cullen, please,” I whispered.  “Just let me go. I am nothing to you.  Why must you do this?”

“No, you are everything,” he contradicted.  Then his lips were on my neck, and his hands clawed at the ties on my robes.  “I have dreamed of you every night since I met you. I have wanted you all this time.”  I heard the fabric rip, and let out a gasp. He did not seem to notice my distress. “You are mine.  I will make it so.”

The neckline gave way beneath his tugging, and his lips trailed over my freshly exposed collar bone.  He held me so tightly, I thought he would crush me. My body was pressed so tightly against his. When he moved forward, I had to move as well.

My feet came to rest on glass shards, the pieces ripping into the soft, exposed flesh.  I cried out in pain as the sharpness shot up my legs. Cullen didn’t stop. He forced me back until I was pinned between him and the back shelves of the small room.  Then he let his hands roam my body freely. I tried to remember what Alistair had said, that I’d always been powerful. It didn’t feel like it was true, as a man I hated laid his hands on me and all I could do was cry and whimper.  Alistair had said I was commanding, and so I needed to be now. 

“Cullen, stop,” I said, my voice cracking.  He did not respond. I tried again, my voice stronger and louder.  “Let me go.” Still, he did nothing to abide by my command. Finally, I bellowed, “Take your hands off me!”

That startled him from his unwanted ministrations.  His face came up to look at me, confused. Then he seemed to notice the tears streaming down my face, and the ruined state of my dress.  Horror crossed his face as he let go of me and took a step back.

“Solona, I…” he quavered.  “I didn’t mean to… I thought..”

As he was trying to order his thoughts, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him around, causing to him to stumble and crash into a shelf of herbs.  Alistair loomed over him, his furious face snarling. He raised one balled fist and crashed it into Cullen’s jaw with such force I thought it might break.

“If you EVER,” Alistair growled.  “Even THINK of touching her again, I will kill you.”

My heart swelled at his proclamation, but in the next second, I knew it wasn’t right.  It wasn’t Alastair’s job to protect me. Nor was he able to follow me every second for the rest of my life to make sure his threat came to pass.  Only I could truly protect myself.

“No, Alistair,” I told him. “You will do no such thing.”

“But, Solona,” he protested.  Cullen looked up at me with hope in his eyes.  “He hurt you.”

“You will not kill him.  Because if he ever touches me again,” I said, my eyes shifting to meet Cullen’s, the first time I had done so in years.  “ _ I _ will kill him myself.”

I saw the hope fade from Cullen’s eyes to be replaced by shock.  I felt shaky. I had done something I had thought more impossible than ending the Blight.  I had stood up to the man that had been tormenting me, and I was still standing. 

Alistair reached out a hand for me, to lead me from the room.  When I lifted the skirts of my robes, however, he saw the blood and glass.  He came towards me, swept my feet out from under me, lifted me into his arms, and carried me back to our room.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and nestled my head under his chin. He still smelled good. A sweet, musky scent that made me feel calm.

Back in our room, he gently set me down on the bed, then set to the task of carefully picking out the glass shards.  Then he cleaned and bandaged the wounds. When Irving returned, he would fetch healing potions, and we would set out.  In the meantime, he crawled onto the bed behind me, brushed my hair, and slowly, at times painfully, began to learn to braid them.


	8. A Proposal or Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona receives an unexpected offer from a charming man. Then, she gives a gift to Alistair and makes a proposal of her own.

A feast awaited up back at Redcliffe castle, but it was a muted affair. Connor and Isolde were both safe, as Jowan’s ritual had worked, and Wynne had been so excited to participate, she had asked to join our mission.  I accepted, easily. She had more than proven herself in the tower. Arl Eamon had not perished at the demon’s death, and Barkspawn had greeted me with dozens of licks and a wagging tail.

But our problems, though less dire, were still concerning.  After all, Eamon had still not woken, and no one seemed to know what to do, except continue the search for the fabled Ashes of Andraste.  I didn’t even really believe in Andraste, and now I was supposed to track down her ashes, which had been lost for ages? Additionally, I was sour over their treatment of Jowan.  Isolde had stuck him straight back into his cell, and Teagan claimed he could do nothing to interfere. I ate, and ate heartily, but I didn’t enjoy it, and the little merriment that was present around the banquet table seemed forced.  I may have drunk too much wine.

“Have you given any further thought to what I asked you a few days ago?” Teagan asked me.  I had been contemplating different methods for sneaking past the guards to free Jowan a second time, so it took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.

“I’m sorry, Bann Teagan,” I apologized.  “What question was that?”

“Please, just Teagan,” he implored. “Have you thought any more about whether you would marry, now that you are free of the Circle?”

I hadn’t.  I had been busy.  Since then, I had led a battle against the risen dead, infiltrated a castle, journeyed to Kinloch Hold, battled blood mages and demons, and faced my own, personal demons.  I had other things to worry about. But Teagan, so buoyed by his nephew’s recovery, was in higher spirits than I had ever seen him, in the short time we had known each other.  I couldn’t dampen his mood.

“I suppose so,” I conceded.  “If I found the right partner.  One who was kind and generous, and would not resent my activity within the Gray Wardens.” 

“You seek a high caliber husband,” he said smiling.  “Or...or wife.”

“Yes, I do,” I replied, intentionally not clarifying.  

“And?  Have you met any such potential partners?”

I looked around the gathered table.  This collection represented most of the still-living people I had encountered since leaving the Circle.  Sten was Qunari, so that would never work. I appreciated Morrigan, but I could not see myself growing to love her.  She was too disinterested in the rest of humanity to satisfy me. Leliana was beautiful and kind and understanding, and far too devout to a god I did not believe in.  Wynne was too old, Isolde was too married and haughty. That left Alistair and Teagan. Two men of noble blood and noble character. Both above my station. My eyes went to Alistair.  He jested with Connor, entertaining the young boy with his terrible eating habits. Three more months, he had said.

I returned my gaze to Teagan to find him staring at me intently.  He was expecting an answer. Had he seen me staring at Alistair? Was I now staring at Teagan?  I grabbed my goblet and drank more wine, buying time to answer.

“I fear I am too reserved to seek out such a partner,” I finally told him.  “They would have to tumble into my bed for me to consider them, and even then, I would doubt their intention.”

“So your ideal partner must be bold, as well?” he clarified.  “You set a high bar, Lady Solona. May the best man clear it with ease.”

He offered his cup to me to toast, and the feast went on.

I escaped as soon as I could, Barkspawn and I retiring to the guest chambers Isolde had prepared for us.  It wasn’t a large or fancy room, but it was cozier than the one at the Circle. Barkspawn made himself comfortable, stretching across one side of the bed before rolling onto his back.

I took my time to prepare for bed.  For the first time in weeks, months really, I wasn’t tired enough to simply fall into the void of unconsciousness. I unbraided my hair and gently brushed it out, then ran oil through the ends.  It reached almost all the way down my back. I also took care to clean my face of the accumulated dirt and dust. At the Circle, I had never gone a day without a clean face, but out on the road, facing the Blight, it just didn’t seem as important.  My skin lightened back to its pale, olive complexion, my dark eyes standing out all the more.

I had just finished, and was turning the covers down, when Barkspawn flipped onto his stomach, snapped his head toward the door, and boofed quietly.  I looked and saw it creak open. I thought perhaps it was Leliana, or even Morrigan, but instead I saw Teagan enter stealthily. Once he had closed the door behind him, he smiled at me and bowed slightly.

I could not fathom what he was doing in my chambers so late at night.  I felt far more exposed and vulnerable standing in front of him in nothing but my underclothes than I had with Alistair.  I suppose it was because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was safe with Alistair, whereas Teagan’s intentions were still unknown.

“My Lady Solona, I am sorry you left the feast early.  I had intended to walk you back to your room,” he said, slowly walking towards me.  Barkspawn crawled to my edge of the bed, making himself a physical barrier between Teagan and me.  “There are things I wish to discuss with you. Things that must be discussed in private.”

“If it’s Redcliffe’s armies, I fully understand that only Arl Eamon has the authority to grant their use to the Gray Wardens,” I responded.  Teagan rested his hand on the dog’s head and scratched between Barkspawn’s ears. The mabari leaned into his hand, grunting appreciatively.

“Yes, that is true,” he said.  “But that was not what I wanted to discuss.  It is something more… personal.”

He took another step toward me, and this time my traitorous dog let him.  He lifted one hand and pushed my hair behind my ears, letting it come to rest lightly cupping my neck.

“I am not a foolish man,” he said, his eyes boring into me, his pupils wide. “I understand the importance of your quest, and I would not interfere with it.  You have seen me with the people of Redcliffe, so you can come to your own conclusions about my kindness and generosity.”

I was frozen.  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I clutched the front of my shift.  My stomach turned over and over again, dancing within me, making me nauseous. It seemed hard to breathe. 

“Consider this me declaring my intentions,” Teagan whispered, lowering his head until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from mine. “You are a woman of incomparable beauty, poise, determination, and strength.  I cannot claim I am worthy of you, but if you accept me, I will live my life proving I deserve you.”

I was shocked. Leliana had said that if I didn’t encourage him, he would leave me alone. But then my mind flashed back to our conversation at dinner. I had been speaking generally, and thinking of someone else. I saw now how he must have interpreted it as an invitation. This was of my own making.

Teagan closed the distance and kissed me.  He was the first man who had kissed me, besides Cullen, although the two could not be compared. Teagan was gentle, his lips soft and sweet and hesitant. Still, I did not want this. I did not want him to be touching me. I pulled back and easily broke our connection.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I said, my eyes trained on the floor, waiting for his outburst, his denial of my refusal. “You are an honorable and good man, but you should not be here.”

“I don’t...understand,” he said, his voice reflecting his confusion. “I thought… oh, I see.”

I wasn’t sure what conclusion he had come to, so I glanced at him. His hands hung at his side, his eyes were closed in embarrassment, and he nodded his head in understanding. He didn’t look angry with me. He didn’t look like he would punish me for refusing him.

“You have been friendly, where I have been forward,” he lamented. “I saw signs where there were none. This is entirely my fault. Alistair warned me not to pursue you, and I did not heed him, thinking him just jealous. Now I see that he was trying to be kind.”

“Alistair warned you?” I asked. His eyes opened, and he smiled again.  

“He was very gallant, in his way. He cares for you a great deal.”

“He has shown himself to be a true friend,” I replied. “I find him… invaluable.”

“I will not intrude on your privacy any longer,” he assured me, walking toward the door. “Please forgive my actions; I hope I have not caused you harm.”

He was almost out the door when he turned back one last time, fishing something out of his pocket.

“I was going to give this to Alistair,” he explained, holding out an amulet on a fine silver chain. I took it.  “Perhaps you should give it to him, instead.”

I studied the amulet. It looked fragile, the flame of Andraste symbol spidered by cracks.  At some point, it must have been shattered, and had been repaired by someone neither magically inclined nor talented with metallurgy.  It looked like junk, and I concluded that the only value it must have for Alistair would be sentimental. Why else would Teagan want him to have it? 

I set out at once to find out, dressing quickly. When I couldn’t find him in his chambers, I returned for Barkspawn, and the hound set his nose to the task. We finally came across him in the stables, brushing down hoses.

“Who’s a good horsey? Who’s going to get an apple for standing so nicely?” Alistair crooned to the dappled mare he stroked. He was dressed plainly in a wool vest over a linen shirt. He looked almost ordinary, not a Gray Warden, not a Templar, not a secret prince. He seemed to be comfortable doing the hard labor of a stable hand.

“Do I get an apple, too?” I asked, leaning over the stall door. “I sat very nicely when you brushed my hair.”

“You did not,” he argued. “You fidgeted and rearranged yourself every minute or so.”

“Only when you tugged too hard on my hair,” I defended.

“I have never, and certainly would never, tug on a lady’s hair,” he protested.  Then his face broke into a smile, and we both laughed.

“I have something for you,” I told him, holding out the amulet.  He put aside the brushes and carefully withdrew the jewelry from my outstretched hand.

“This...this is my mother’s amulet. It has to be.” He peered intently at it. “But why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”

“Teagan said it belonged to you,” I admitted.  “Shortly after he proposed.”

“Shortly after he what?” Alistair gasped.  

“Don’t worry, he took my refusal like a gentleman,” I assured him.

“You refused?” he croaked. The rapid-fire change of emotions on his face was comical. First awe, then anger, then shock.

“So, your mother’s amulet?” I prodded him, gesturing at it. Now confusion was the dominant emotion sitting on his brows.

“I… um, yes.” He returned his attention to the gift.  “The arl must have found the amulet after I threw it at the wall.  And he repaired it and kept it. Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he meant to give it back to you?” I suggested.  “And when he couldn’t, Teagan did it for him.”

“Maybe he did,” Alistair agreed. “He might have even brought it with him one of those times he came to see me at the monastery… not that I would have given him the chance, as belligerent as I was to him.”

Alistair looked at it for a moment longer, then slipped the chain around his neck, tucking the amulet under his shirt, against his chest. He smiled at me and reach out a hand. I leaned over the stall door and grasped it.

“Thank you. I mean it. I thought I’d lost this to my own stupidity.” His thumb traced lazy circles against the back of my hand. “I’ll need to talk to him about this, if he recovers...When he recovers. I wish I’d had this a long time ago.”

“I’m glad I could be the one to return it to you,” I said. “You’re special to me.”

“Is this the part where the music starts and we begin dancing,” he asked, amusement growing on his face. “Because I’m game.  Where’s the minstrels?”

I withdrew my hand. I knew he was joking, but I had never danced, and at that moment, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to dance.

“I’d like to propose something,” I said.  “When the Blight is over, we will dance.”

“We will?” Alistair asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Promise me.  Even if it’s just a quick turn on the battlefield, say you’ll dance with me when we kill the archdemon.” 

Alistair came close, until he was right on the other side of the wooden partition, and laid his hand across his heart, looking deep into my eyes. “I promise, I will dance with you, and only you, at the end of this Blight.”


	9. The Effects of an Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The appearance of a dashing elf inspires feelings of jealousy and friendship, and a thoughtful gesture after a cold bath inspires both hope and disappointment. Solona is starting to realize what she wants, even if she is surer than ever she will never get it.

To stop the Blight, we needed Arl Eamon’s army.  To get the army, we needed to revive Arl Eamon. The only way to do that was to find Andraste’s ashes.  I thought it was a fool’s errand, chasing after a myth that had been lost for ages. But since we also needed the Dalish armies, and Denerim, our one lead for the ashes, was also in that direction, it wouldn’t much hurt to make the attempt.

Darkspawn littered the roads east.  We discovered Lothering had been lost, as well as a dozen other small settlements along the Imperial Highway.  Bandits were also a common foe, and at times, both groups of combatants would engage us at once, testing the limits of our small force.  We prevailed, always, but sometimes only by the skin of our teeth. Or their skin on our teeth, as in the case of Barkspawn. 

Eventually, we neared the place where we would leave the highway and turn toward the Dalish. A woman came running to us on the road, speaking of more bandits ahead who had taken her wagon.  When we followed her, however, we discovered it was an ambush for us, with a dashing, flaxen-hair elf at the middle of it.

It wasn’t a particularly well-planned ambush.  They successfully cut off our escape, but their numbers weren’t overwhelming.  We had spent the past few weeks testing our steel and spells against roving bands of darkspawn and bandits.  This motley collection of barely professionals didn’t stand a chance. The only true fighter in their ranks was the elf, who spun his twin blades with dizzying speed.  However, he had no protection against my ice, and after his limbs froze together, he had no choice but to surrender.

Sten wanted to run him through, but I still hadn’t forgiven him for his actions at the Circle, and relegated him to the back of the group.  Morrigan suggested we torture him for information, and while the torturing was not something I wished to entertain, I did want to question him.

The tale he spun was enlightening.  He freely detailed Loghain’s hiring of him, throwing in details I hadn’t even asked for.  He did not seem at all loyal to either the Antivan Crows, his order of assassins, or to Loghain.  He cracked jokes and made innuendo as if his life wasn’t resting in my hands. He was unlike anyone I had ever met before. Consequently, when he pledged himself to me in return for his life, I found myself accepting.  He would lighten the mood of the party, at least.

Alistair objected, as I suspected he would.  Morrigan seemed to approve, although she cautioned me to be careful of subsequent attempts on my life.  Leliana initially approved of the plan, until the elf turned his flirtations in her direction, at which point, she became much less enthused.  Wynne refrained from commenting, and Sten just grunted.

Myself, I was quite taken with him.  He complimented my beauty whenever he had the chance, even if it was sometimes in rather lewd terms. As I had discovered with Teagan, I liked being called beautiful.  Despite the constant flirtations, he never touched me, nor even came close to. It made it clear to me that his salacious comments were not genuine declarations of interest, but rather a defense mechanism similar to my own habit of being demure and non-confrontational.  In fact, there was much in our upbringing that was similar. We had both had our fates chosen for us at very young ages. We had both been trained to be powerful weapons but been deprived of any autonomy. I felt a kinship with him, and I knew we would be lifelong friends almost instantly, but I also knew friendship would be the extent of our bond.

Alistair wasn’t as certain.  He watched Zevran like a hawk, looking for signs of betrayal or licentiousness.  The first night was the worst. We set up our camp as we always did. The weather was turning colder, but not so cold that tents needed to be pitched, so we laid out our bed rolls close to the fire.  Traditionally, Leliana slept to my right, and Alistair slept to my left. But this time, Zevran made his bed between Leliana and me, laying it out before anyone else could protest or send him elsewhere.  

“Ah, to sleep between the two most beautiful women in all of Ferelden, if not the world,” he sighed.  Alistair frowned, his eyes narrowed.

“That’s not your spot,” he said.

“Oh, are spots assigned?  Which of these companions assigns us our places?  I must know, so I can seduce them and receive the very best in outdoor sleeping arrangements.”

Alistair clenched his jaw, threw his bedroll down, and stalked off, muttering something about firewood. I rose to go after him.

“Let him go, Lady Warden,” Zevran advised.  “He needs to get used to no longer being the best looking blond in the party.  That will take time.”

“Zevran is right,” Leliana agreed. “Not about the blond thing, just about letting him go.  It is not your responsibility to make everyone happy. Alistair must determine his own place in the group.”

I didn’t like it, but I knew she was right.  Alistair was young; I was too. Neither of us had seen more than two decades, and those had been quite restricted.  I wanted to make things easier on him because that is what he had done for me, but it wasn’t my place. My place was leading us against the Blight.  Everything had to be in service to that, and that meant letting Alistair work through his feelings about Zevran on his own, whatever they were.

I gave both men space as we continued on our walk to where the Dalish were rumored to be camped.  Instead, I walked with Wynne, learning what I could from her. When we finally came upon the settlement, Alistair had calmed down some, and I even heard him ask Zevran a curious question.

At the camp, we found more troubles.  An ancient conflict had reared its ugly head to pit the Dalish against Werewolves created by the clan’s own keeper.  Both groups had legitimate grievances, but if we wanted allies, we had to get involved. Sten and Morrigan argued that the werewolves were more powerful, and would make stronger allies, and that left Zevran and Alistair on the side of pleading for the lives of the Dalish.  In the end, it all came down to me, and I did what I do best: avoid confrontation whenever possible.

I persuaded Zathrian to talk with the Lady, determined to get him to lift the curse.  He refused, his anger and hurt still palpable several generations later. But even though he fought us, eventually I was able to convince him to do the right thing, and he sacrificed his extended life to save everyone.  After that, it did not take long for the Dalish to pledge us their forces. Then it was off to Denerim. 

This leg of the journey was slow and uneventful.  Few attacks came at us as we left the Brecilian Forest, and we used the calm to collect an abundance of herbs.  Wynne turned them into healing potions, while Morrigan turned them into poisons that she coated the swords and daggers with. Meanwhile, Alistair and Zevran had become almost...friendly, to the point where Alistair actually tried to ask him for romantic advice.  It didn’t go well, but it was amusing to watch. I only wished I knew who Alistair wished to woo.

One night, just before we reached the Imperial Highway, we camped along a stream.  Around the bend of it, we found a waterfall and a shallow, clear pool. It looked like a paradise.  Everyone tripped over themselves to be the first to bathe, and I had to manage their order. Sten went first, as he would finish the quickest.  Then Alistair, Morrigan, Wynne, and finally Leliana. I took the last spot, and dragged Barkspawn with me.

The water was frightfully cold, almost too cold to bathe in, especially this late in the season.  Barkspawn, the mighty mabari, had to be dragged into it, and as soon as I was done scrubbing him, he darted out and bounded away.  I took my time, carefully washing and finger-combing my hair, letting the force of the waterfall wash the dirt from my body. When my fingers became numb, I finally exited the pool and dressed quickly.

I had just clasped the last buckle when Alistair stepped out of the trees.

“The sun’s gone down, and I thought you might be cold, after the water,” he told me, a blanket in his hands.  I was shivering, my teeth chattering against each other. He wrapped the blanket around me, tucking it tightly under my chin. His hands lingered there, his eyes studying every feature of my face.  We should have headed straight back to the camp, where there was no doubt a warm, raging fire, but I was rooted to this space with him. I didn’t want to move, and I didn’t want him to move either. 

He finally took a step back from me, and I thought he was going to suggest we return to the camp, but instead, he plucked something from the satchel at his belt, and held it out for me.

“Here, look at this,” he said.  I took the thing in his hand and peered at in through the gloom.  It was a rose, though it looked old, like it had been dried, and then smashed inside someone’s… satchel. “Do you know what this is?”

“Is that a trick question?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes. Absolutely. I am trying to trick you,” he laughed.  “Is it working? Aw, I just about had you didn’t I.”

“You’ve been thumbing this flower for a while, now,” I responded.  I wasn’t going to let him joke his way out of this.

He admitted picking it in Lothering, and how it had moved him.  Then, he ripped my heart out and said, “I thought that I might...give it to you, actually.  In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you.”

No one had given me a gift before, and here he was, giving me something that represented beauty and hope, and telling me I represented those things too.  He didn’t see the young, inexperienced mage, or the helpless and vulnerable damsel. And he had carried it with him all this time, thinking of me the whole way.  My throat closed up and tears threatened to spill over onto my cheeks. It was such a small thing, but it held such meaning. Finally, I choked out, “Thank you, Alistair.  It’s a lovely thought.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, then began to apologize for my experiences as a Warden not being the usual ones.  My heart sank. It wasn’t a token of his affection, then; it was because he felt sorry for me. Sure, I was a ‘rare and wonderful thing,’ but he was just building me up, as his friend and leader.  Nothing more. I decided to use his own brand of humor against him.

“So,” I began. “Are we married now?”

“You won’t land me that easily, woman. I’m quite the prize, after all.  No need to start crying on me or anything,” he chuckled, and my fears were confirmed.  Not his affection. Just his friendship. He must have seen my face fall, because he immediately doubted himself. “I guess it was, uh, just a stupid impulse. I don’t know.  Was it the wrong one?”

“No, it wasn’t,” I assured him.  And it really wasn’t. It just had the wrong intentions behind it.  “Thank you Alistair.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his confidence restored.  “Now, if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I’d appreciate it.”

At first, I was shocked at his forwardness, but I quickly realized it was just the product of his newfound friendship with Zevran.  Another joke, so I joked back.

“Sounds good!  Off with your armor, then,” I commanded him.  His stilted laughter was enough to put him back in my good graces.  He wasn’t trying to have a laugh at my expense. He was just awkward by nature.

“Bluff called! Damn, she saw right through me,” he conceded, finally moving away from me and back down the path, looking everywhere but my eyes.  

“You’re cute when you’re bashful,” I commented, the words slipping out as I thought them.  I regretted them immediately. I was usually so good at keeping my thoughts locked up tight.  But if Alistair thought they were any more than teasing, he didn’t show it.

“I’ll be…” he cleared his throat and gestured toward the campfire, tripping on his own feet as he moved.  “I’ll be standing over there. Until the blushing stops. Just to be… safe. You know how it is.”

And with that, he was gone.  I didn’t know how it was, for him at least.  I only knew how it was for me. For me, it was dreaming of a life different than the one I was currently leading, where men like Alistair saw me as more than just a friend.  No, that wasn’t true. I didn’t care about men like Alistair. After all, Teagan was like Alistair, except for the joking, and I rebuffed his advances. It was only Alistair I wanted to see me as more.  For now, I would have to simply settle for being his friend.

I tucked the rose into my robes, right over my heart, and returned to camp.


	10. A Mage, A Templar, A Bard, and An Assassin Walk Into A Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ensemble arrives in Denerim to find Brother Genitivi. Zevran initiates a drinking game, which leads to a little bit of mercenary work, which leads to a pirate.

Denerim was larger than I could have imagined. Lothering had been the first real settlement I had seen, and that was tiny by comparison.  Even Redcliffe, a lakeside town that served as an important waypoint on the trade route between Denerim and Southern Orlais was easily overshadowed by Denerim’s enormity.  How many people lived within its walls? Were there even enough people in all of Thedas to fill it up?

When we got within a day of the city, the traffic on the road increased significantly.  Merchants, pilgrims, carriages carrying the gentry, messengers on horseback, suddenly became an hourly sight.  Once the city came into view, the road was never empty of travelers, and I began to get nervous.

“What if we are recognized?” I asked Alistair.

“By who? Our uniforms were lost at Ostagar, neither of us has ever been to Denerim, and anyone who does know us by our faces  _ and _ knows we’re Wardens isn’t here.  We’re completely safe,” he assured me.  

“Don’t be flippant, Alistair,” Leliana cautioned.  “Loghain has seen both your faces, and could have had your likeness passed around to his guard.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that,” Zevran objected.  “He never gave me much to work with. I had to ask around and then backtrack three times to figure out who and where you were. I would have met you much sooner if I knew what you looked like.”

“Now would be an excellent time to deal with the threat of this Loghain once and for all,” Morrigan answered.  “Why not simply kill him, and be done with it?”

“The witch is right,” agreed Sten.  “The most assured way to win a battle is to engage in it.”

“Unless a mage’s life hangs in the balance, you mean?” I mumbled.  Everyone pretended not to hear me.

“You’ll never get near Loghain,” Wynne scolded.  “He’s far too protected. Besides, the nobility would turn against you for outright murder, and then you’d never get your armies.”

“Wynne is right,” I said.  “We stick to the current course.  Find this Genitivi, learn what he knows, find the ashes.”

According to Alistair, Brother Genitivi lived in the Market District, very close to the market itself.  The streets of the Market District were haphazard and followed no logical plan. Houses and buildings seemed to smash into each other, or have been built one on top of the other. There were too many people on the street, even streets with little but houses on them.  And it was filthy. Trash, dirt, even human waste littered the streets, and I practiced my cleaning spells with every step, until Wynne shot me a look.

“If people notice you casting spells, you’ll draw attention to us,” she warned.  “Mages don’t walk freely without permission, and since we have an apostate and a fugitive acolyte among our numbers, I would recommend you simply deal with the dirt.”

I put away my staff.  Beside me, Barkspawn was having the time of his life, sniffing every corner and crate.  He wove himself between clusters of people, sometimes disappearing for whole minutes before dashing back to my side, a prize between his jaws.  First, it was a moldy ball of yarn. Then, it was a stick. When I tossed that one, Barkspawn chased after it, but when he returned, he instead had a bottle of wine between his teeth.  Wynne claimed that for herself.

Leliana, the one of us most familiar with the city, led us to the market itself, a bustling square with stalls clustered in its center and shops ringing the edges.  A Chantry stood along one side, with two sisters crying out the Chant of Light. Well, one was attempting to, anyway, but mangling it horribly. The second was trying to correct her at every butchered line.  Both Leliana and Wynne cringed at the sight. Alistar chuckled, wishing the version he had learned had also been filled with food references.

I wanted to walk through the square and stop at every shop, look at all the goods offered, hear the stories of the merchants and buyers alike.  But we had little money for frivolous shopping, and the urgency of our mission pressed me onward.

Genitivi’s home was modest, tucked just into an alley.  I took the initiative to knock on the door. For a long moment, there was no sound from inside the door, and it did not open.  I began to suspect it was empty. Then the door cracked open very quietly, and a young, dark-haired man stuck his head out.

“Yes?” he asked slowly and suspiciously.

“Is this Brother Genitivi’s house?” I questioned.

“Who’s asking?” he responded.  It was like a game. One question led only to another. 

“I’m interested in some of his research.  Can I talk to him?”

“What research are you interested in?” The man was starting to get on my nerves.

“Is he home or not?” I demanded.

“No,” he replied.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” I shook my head.  “When will he be back?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?” I snapped.

“I know that he’s not here right now, and I don’t know much about his research. Come back later.”

And with that, he shut the door.  I heard the sound of a heavy bolt being drawn across the door.  It was clear visitors were not wanted. I turned to the party.

“What now?” I asked, out of ideas.

“I will wait,” Sten said immediately.  “When he returns, I will know. If the boy lied, and he is inside, then when he leaves, I will know, and I will follow him.  I will inform you when that happens.”

“You’re just going to wait here, for as long as it takes?” I asked him.

“Yes.”

“What if it’s more than a day or two?” I questioned.  Sten was impressive, but he still needed to sleep sometime.  He considered for a moment.

“If he has not returned in two days, then we should force our way into his home, question his servant, and locate his whereabouts,” Sten concluded.  It wasn’t a bad plan. It seemed like a lot for Sten to volunteer for, but perhaps he was trying to earn his way back into my good graces. That left us with up to two days to spend in Denerim.

“What do we do in the meantime?” I asked.

“If it’s alright with you, I have an old friend who is a Chantry sister.  I would like to visit her.” I nodded, and Wynne left.

“I have my own errands to accomplish, as long as we are here, with time to kill,” Morrigan said.

“That’s vague,” remarked Alistair.  “What are you up to?”

“If I would not tell Solona, why in all of Thedas would I tell you,” she asked him.  “My business is my own. It does not concern you, and if you attempt to follow me, I will turn you into a toad.”

I gave her leave, and she sauntered off, letting herself get lost in the crowd before disappearing completely.  I doubted even Zevran would be able to follow her.

“Barkspawn, go keep an eye on her.  Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble, but stay out of sight if she doesn’t need you,” I told the mabari.  He barked once, then trotted happily into the crowd, his nose to the ground. I turned back to the three of them.

“Any of you have pressing matters to attend to?” I asked, hoping at least one of them would say no.  I didn’t want to be left in this city all by myself.

“There are those I would prefer not to run into,” Leliana said.  “But no one I’m dying to see.”

“I, uh, I have…” Alistair trailed off.  He seemed like he was going to say something, then changed his mind, laughing it off.  “No one. I have no one. Nothing to do. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Zevran?” He was the final one to account for.

“I have something very important to do,” he said with seriousness.  “But I require all three of you to do it.”

“This ought to be good,” Leliana quipped.

“Whatever you need, Zevran,” I told him.  He smiled, too big, and turned around and opened his arms wide.

“Behold, The Gnawed Noble Tavern,” he proclaimed.  “I cannot get drunk alone. It is no fun.”

Both Leliana and Alistair groaned, but I smiled.  A drink and some time to relax would be nice, after the long journey from the Dalish.

The tavern was much nicer than the one I had entered in Redcliffe.  Most of the patrons seemed to be wealthier, the floor had long and ornate carpets, and there was actual art that hung on the walls.  But beer was beer, and it was the closest place to find it.

Zevran bought the first round, a pint for each of us.  I wondered how much it had set him back. The alcohol in an establishment of this caliber had to be pricey.

“Drink up, my fellow travelers,” he cheered as he placed a mug in each of our hands.  “The last one to finish their pint has to remove an item of clothing.”

“No,” Leliana protested.  “We are not playing strip drinking.”

“You think you’ll lose?” Zevran wondered.  Leliana’s eyes flashed to me, then Alistair.

“I know I won’t,” she responded.  “But I think this is a place that will kick us out for such behavior.”

“Alright, then what game would you suggest?” he asked her.  

“Why do we have to play a game,” Alistair complained.  “Can’t we just drink and talk?”

“Drink and talk,” Zevran scoffed, seemingly outraged.  “Wait, I know. Truth or dare.”

“Why do I get the feeling that all your dares will involve the loss of clothing?” Leliana protested.  Zevran chucked in admission.

“Alright, no dare, just truth.  Everyone gets the chance to ask a question of someone else in the group.  If you don’t want to answer, you have to drink. To keep it fair, no one can be asked a question twice in a row.  I’ll start, and we’ll go clockwise around the circle. Leliana...” he began. She didn’t even let him finish. She just took a swallow of the beer.

“Can you do that?” Alistair asked.  “Just drink without the question being asked?”

“No, you can’t,” Zevran said, scowling at Leliana.  “It’s cheating. And cheating is only acceptable in card games and marriages.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t explain the rules well enough,” she protested.  “Next time, I’ll let you finish.”

Zevran kept scowling.  Then it was Alistair’s turn.  He took a long time to think before turning to Zevran. “Do you have any other tattoos? Besides the one on your face?”

“Of course,” Zevran said, a smile returning to him.

“How many?” Alistair asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry my friend,” Zevran apologized. “You asked your question.  It is no longer your turn.”

“It’s my turn!” Leliana said, and turned to look at me.  “This question has been burning since Redcliffe. Who was the man who asked you about marriage?”

“You told Leliana about that?” Alistair sputtered, almost choking on his drink.

“It was you?” Leliana queried, confused. “It couldn’t have been.  She said it was an older man, and you’re barely full grown.”

“I am plenty grown,” Alistair protested. “And no it wasn’t me, it was Teagan.”

“Bann Teagan wanted to marry you?” Leliana exclaimed, both excited and shocked.  “He’s handsome, rich, kind, and very influential. That’s not a bad choice.”

“She said no,” Alistair jeered.  “Obviously.”

“Wait, wait,” Zevran interrupted.  “You’ve given her no opportunity to answer for herself.  She still has the choice. Tell the truth, or drink.”

I drank, but it didn’t matter.  Alistair had spilled everything.  He needed to learn to keep his lips sealed sometimes.  Then, it was my turn to ask.

“Leliana,” I said, determined to repay her for her unkindness.  “How many people did you kill while you were a bard?’

“Oh, gosh,” she replied, a little embarrassed.  “I don’t actually know. I never kept track.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Zevran scolded.  “How shameful. For assassins, your number is a badge of pride.  To not keep track would be unthinkable. But it is my turn again.”

The game went on like that for some time, each of us slowly draining our mugs, determined not to let out our secrets.  Zevran mostly asked invasive questions of Leliana. Leliana tried to embarrass Alistair in one way or another. Alistair mostly asked genuine questions about both assassins and bards, taking the time to learn what he could.  Mostly, they asked me little, and in return, I kept my questions shallow and polite. 

As the last one to finish my beer, it was my duty to buy the next round.  I was a little tipsy, and my body felt light and energetic. I gathered the mugs and approached the bartender.  He looked nervous, and kept glancing at the door to the side room. Something was making him uncomfortable. I set the mugs in front of him, and his attention snapped to me.

“You’re a mage, right?” he asked before I could even request refills.  “And, I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but your friends are all… dangerous too, right?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I evaded.

“Look, I don’t care what your stories are,” he clarified. “I just wanna know if you’d like to make some extra coin by getting rid of some unwanted patrons?”

I looked back at my group.  They too, were all in good spirits, but not encumbered by the alcohol yet. I asked him, “how much extra coin?”

“Enough to pay for a room, and all the beer you want,” he responded.  “I just want them gone, before they bleed this place dry and ruin all the furniture.”

“Consider them gone,” I told him, and headed back to the group.

“Oh, no,” Leliana cried, seeing my empty hands.  “Are they kicking us out already? We weren’t being that loud, were we?”

“No, better,” I said.

“What could be better than more beer,” Alistair asked.

“Free beer, and a room for the night,” I replied.

“What’s the catch?  There must be a catch,” Zevran questioned.

“The catch is we have to clear the side room of unwanted guests,” I told him.

“A fight for free beer? I’m game,” he replied.

“What kind of unwanted guests?” Leliana asked.

“Who cares,” Alistair responded.  “Let’s clear them out.”

The unwanted patrons turned out to be a band of mercenaries none of us had ever heard of, called the Crimson Oars.  They were in high spirits, so I started to ask them to leave. They cut me off, asking if I would dance for them. 

More forcefully, I commanded them to leave.  When still they resisted, Alistair, Leliana, and Zevran unsheathed their blades, and I stamped my staff on the ground, causing each one in turn to burst into flames.  Only Alistair started, but he quickly recovered and acted as if I had done such a thing to his sword a dozen times before.

The show of force and magic did the trick.  They left, but not before Zevran persuaded them to leave behind the gold in their pockets.  He figured I would put it to good use. I agreed.

Once it was done, the barkeep handed over the key to a room and brought another round to us.  We drank it, and the next, laughing about how impotent the Crimson Oars truly were. Then, Leliana and I challenged Zevran and Alistair to a game of charades. By then, we had become quite boisterous, almost disturbing the other patrons, so when two officers of the city guard entered, my first thought was that we were getting kicked out, even though we had been given a key to a room.

“Ah, Wardens, I thought it might be you,” the first said.  My hand went to my staff, as everyone else’s did to their blades.  “I was told of how you dispatched the Crimson Oars, and I wanted to personally thank you.  I’m Sergeant Kylon, of the city guard.”

“How do you know we’re Wardens?” I asked.

“Are you going to arrest us?” Zevran inquired, articulating the question on all our minds.

“Arrest you? Maker, no! And we know your faces because Arl Howe has been passing around your likeness.  But you’ve nothing to fear from me or my men,” Kylon said, then explained his predicament. Between rising crime rates and a force half filled with incompetent noble bastards and half filled with Howe’s thugs, he couldn’t get anything done.  He was asking for our help.

Close to the docks, there was an establishment, a brothel, that was also overrun with mercenaries, this time the White Falcons.  The Pearl was a popular place, which catered to both noble and commoner, and many were invested in seeing them gone. But he couldn’t condone killing.  His men were either too incompetent or too corrupt to deal with the problem properly, but if we did it for him, he’d make sure we were rewarded.

“Excellent,” Zevran cheered.  “I love brothels. It’s like going home.”

We hit the streets at midnight, after checking in with Sten, so he knew where to find us, and made our way to The Pearl.  It was on the other side of the Drakon river, in a much poorer part of the city. If the houses in the Market District were overcrowded, then the ones here were stacked tighter than the laces of a corset.  The streets were a lot quieter, too. They gave the sense that a thief or thug hid in every shadow, but with the four of us heavily armed, there wasn’t much to worry about.

Eventually, the houses and tenements gave way to warehouses and shipyards.  This close to the sea, there was a salty brine that hung in the air. The Pearl finally appeared right next to the docks, with a shiny white sign gently swaying in the ocean breeze above the door.  It didn’t look like much, and if it hadn’t been clearly marked, I would have mistaken it for another warehouse.

“Oh, I think I’ve been here before,” said Leliana.  At the men’s surprised reactions, she raised her hands in defense.  “What? I haven’t always been a Chantry sister. And even Chantry sisters have… urges that need to be attended to.”

“I am impressed,” Zevran remarked.  “Every day you grow more interesting.”

Alistair didn’t say anything.  He looked nervous, and kept running his hand through his hair.  When he caught me looking, he blushed and and tried to look more stoic.  It didn’t work.

Inside, we were greeted by a lush and beautiful lobby.  It was a stunning contrast to the exterior. A records keeper worked in a small room by the door, keeping tabs on the comings and goings of both patrons and workers, making sure everyone paid their share.  When we told her Kylon had sent us, she sent for the madam. Sanga was a beautiful woman dressed in exquisite finery, with a worried frown etched in her brow. She quickly showed us to our quarry.

The White Falcons were much more sinister than the Crimson Oars, with shiny clean uniforms and quiet, angry voices.  But there were also fewer of them, which made for a less even fight… for them. They initially tried to run us off, but when I crossed my arms and let fire dance on my fingertips, they backed off.  From there, it was only a matter of letting them believe we belonged to Arl Howe’s contingent, and they left hastily.

“Not that I mind seeing you intimidate every neerdowell we come across,” Zevran lamented.  “But I could do with a proper fight. I haven’t had one of those in days.”

“It looks like you’ll have your chance,” Leliana told him, leaning against the bar and looking behind us.  “There’s a fight right there you can join.”

I turned to look, as well.  In an alcove of the room, three dishonest looking men had cornered a woman, their blades drawn.  I took a step toward the fight, afraid for the woman, but Zevran put his hand out to stop me.

“Not that one,” he said.  “She doesn’t like help when she doesn’t need it.”

I watched as the woman deftly disarmed and defeated the three men almost simultaneously.  Once they had run off, I had a clear view of the woman who had bested them. She wore a blue bandana in her thick black hair, and thigh-high leather boots that didn’t quite meet the hem of her barely-there tunic.  Gold trinkets adorned the chains on her neck, and a leather cinch emphasized every magnificent curve.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.


	11. And A Bottle of Rum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the pirate Isabela hands Solona a bottle of rum, she takes it. And when she and Alistair find themselves alone in the wee hours of the morning, she drinks it. Who needs a potion for courage or honesty when rum works just fine?

“And then I said, “if you’re not going to do it properly, then you can just bugger off!’ And then I tossed him overboard,” Isabela finished.  “I never heard from him again.”

“You mean he didn’t die?” asked Alistair.  “But you were hundreds of miles out to sea.  How did he survive?”

“No, kitten.  He didn’t survive,” Isabela clarified.  “That’s  _ why _ I never heard from him again.”

Zevran and Leliana roared with laughter, and even I had to chuckle a little.  Alistair blushed, looking bashful, but smiled good-naturedly. Isabela reached out and ruffled his hair, drinking from the bottle of rum that had been passed around for the past hour.

“Oh, Zevran, you do find the most interesting companions,” she commented.  “A tantalizing bard, an intriguing mage, and the most wholesome Templar I think in existence.”

“Hey, I’m not entirely wholesome,” Alistair protested.

“Yes, you are,” Leliana agreed.  “Sure, you can kill a darkspawn well enough, but you can’t talk to women to save your life.”

“I can.  I’m talking right now!”

“You once asked me if I was female,” Leliana pointed out.

“Know when you are beat, my friend,” Zevran advised him, clapping him on his back. Isabela’s gaze turned to me.

“And this quiet one over here, what’s her story?” she asked, draping an arm over Zevran’s shoulder.  I blushed under the scrutiny of her impossibly dark eyes, and full, succulent lips. 

“This one has secrets, I think,” Leliana said.  “Although I haven’t figured out entirely what they all are.”

“Nonsense,” Zevran disagreed. “She has a heart of gold, and is altogether too forgiving, or I would be dead.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have much to hide,” Leliana argued.

“What could she possibly be hiding?” he countered. “She grew up in the Circle.  Are you suggesting she left behind a lover? Or committed a crime she is now on the run from?”

“What do you have to say for yourself, sweetness?” Isabela asked.  “Or do you keep your secrets so close to your breasts?”

She accentuated her questions by trailing her hand down her front, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the soft, round, dark flesh peeking out from her partially unlaced tunic.  Zevran pinched her sides and dragged her onto his lap.

“No, Captain Isabela,” he scolded her.  “You do not get to seduce the young Warden before I have had a fair shot at corrupting her.”

She giggled, as did Leliana as she emptied the rum bottle that had been full only a minute ago.

“You’re all talk,” Isabela cried.  “You don’t do anything except crack lewd jokes, and somehow men and women lose their clothes.”

“Including you?” Leliana asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Isabela responded, rolling her eyes.  “I was fully clothed the whole time.”

“That’s a shame,” Leliana lamented.  “A woman as good looking as you deserves to have her naked body adored and worshipped.”

“Excuse you,” Zevran snapped.  “I am perfectly capable of adoring and worshipping regardless of clothing state.”

The trio burst into laughter again.  I didn’t quite understand what was so funny.  They spoke of sex as if it was a pastime or a game.  It baffled me. The idea of anyone seeing me naked was terrifying, man or woman.  I felt like I was missing out on some secret the three of them had discovered. Was sex really as fun as they described?

“I’m out of my depth here,” Alistair whispered.  “And I think if I drink anymore, that pirate will take advantage of me.”

Isabela currently had one hand gripping the back of Zevran’s head, still sitting in his lap, while the other caressed Leliana’s face.

“I think if they drink much more, we’ll see all of them in a compromising position,” I whispered back.  “If I leave, will you walk with me back to the Gnawed Noble Tavern?”

He nodded.

“Isabela, I have enjoyed meeting you,” I told her, rising from the table.

“No you can’t leave yet, the fun hasn’t started,” she cried.

“I’m afraid I must.  There are things I must attend to,” I apologized.

“What things?” asked Leliana.  “I thought we were free of things until Sten told us otherwise.”

“I have… other things, to take care of.” It was a vague answer, but she was drunk enough and distracted by Isabela enough that it satisfied her.  “Alistair is going to accompany me.”

“Wait, I don’t want you to leave empty-handed,” Isabela said.  She looked around herself, then spied a half-full bottle on another table that had been momentarily abandoned.  She stretched out her long limbs until she could grasp it, then offered it to me. “A bottle for the road. In case you get thirsty.”

I took the bottle and tucked it into my satchel.  I had no intention of drinking it still tonight, but I couldn’t reject a gift she had so thoughtful stolen for me.  The other two I told, “Meet back at the market by noon.”

I looked back once from the doorway, and Isabela was straddling Leliana, Zevran’s face nestled in the crook of her neck.  I didn’t want to know how the three of them would end their night, but I could guess.

Alistair and I took the long way back to the Market District, if only because it was the easiest to remember, and the least likely to get us hopelessly lost.  Whoever had designed the layout of Denerim must have hated efficiency, although it was more likely that no one had planned it, the way the streets ran in every direction, and blocks were seldom block shaped.  The streets were well empty, and we faced no trouble returning to the tavern.

Our room wasn’t large, but it was cozy.  There was a cushioned bench by the fireplace, which was just starting to die down, and a large canopied bed that could probably fit four people shoulder to shoulder.

“Do you want me to take the bench?” Alistair asked.  He was twice as wide as it. If he slept there, he’d have to sleep sitting up.

“We’ve shared a bed before, Alistair,” I reminded him.  He cleared his throat uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, yes, we did that.  I remember,” he said. “It’s just that, well, I didn’t want to assume anything.  Any you kick in your sleep sometimes.”

“I do not,” I protested.

“How would you know?” he teased.  “You’re asleep.”

I rolled my eyes and took a seat on the bench.  The bottle of rum had gotten heavy, and I figured, if we didn’t have to be anywhere early tomorrow, why not drink it now.  I uncorked it and offered it to Alistair. “A drink before bed?”

“You mean now that we’re safe from wandering hands,” he chuckled, sitting next to me and taking a swig.  “Although, I’m not sure I would have complained much if that pirate had put her hands on me.”

“Me neither,” I agreed.  Truthfully, my mode of operations was to freeze when I was uncomfortable, so I wouldn’t have complained even if I didn’t like it.  But I think I would have. I was still hung up on the way she talked of sex. Was it the choice of partner that made it desirable? Or would it be good even if my partner was distasteful?  For all the things I had experienced in my 20 years, sex was not one of them. But she had also called Alistair wholesome. Was he, too, missing this experience?

“Can I ask you a question?” I inquired, taking the bottle back from him and drinking again.  It had stopped burning down my throat.

“Ask away,” he allowed, and began removing his armor and padding until he sat next to me in just his underclothes. 

“If you were raised in the Chantry, have you never…” I trailed off.  How did I ask him this respectfully? Without crossing any lines he didn’t want to cross.

“Have I never…? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?” he asked, again teasing me.  The mirth in his voice made me smile despite myself.

“You know what I mean,” I said sullenly, fighting unsuccessfully to keep the smile at bay.

“I’m not sure I do,” he argued. “Have I never seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham?  Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?”

“Now you're making fun of me,” I complained.

“Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought!” He laid his hand across his chest in mock outrage. “Well, have  _ you _ ever licked a lamppost in winter?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.  If I told him the truth, would he mock me for that, too?  Or would he be kind? I took the risk. “No, I've never licked a lamppost in winter.”

“Good, I hear it’s quite painful,” he cautioned.  “I heard one of the younger initiates did it on a dare once, and there was pointing and laughing… Oh, the humanity.”

Alistair leaned one arm against the back of the bench, turning his body fully toward me.  This close, I could smell the rum on his breath, see each hair of stubble on his chin, and feel the heat that radiated from him as much as from the fire.  

“I, myself, have never done it. That,” he mused, his voice now contemplative. My heart fluttered a little.  I couldn’t help but take pleasure in the fact that we shared this, too. “Not that I haven’t thought about it, of course, but, you know…”

“You never had the opportunity?” I offered.

“Well, living in the Chantry is...not exactly an easy life for rambunctious boys.  They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the company of beautiful women like yourself. That’s not so bad, is it?”

I shook my head no, trying not to blush as he called me beautiful. Alistair was indeed a gentleman.  I never had to worry about him crossing any lines. Only, sometimes I wished he would ask to. Like now.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” I asked, grasping the only straw I could find.

“Of course you are! You know you are,” he laughed.  When I didn’t laugh with him, he stopped and looked me in the eyes.  “You are beautiful, ravishing, enticing, and all those other things you’d probably hurt me for not saying.”

“I would never hurt you, Alistair,” I told him.  Every time he came close to making me feel like he truly saw me, he’d pull back, make a joke, lighten the intensity of it.  Not this time. Maybe it was the rum talking, but I didn’t want to play this game of hinting at how I felt, trying to decipher how he felt from contradicting messages.

“Nor I you,” he responded, the laughter draining out of him at last.  “You know that, right? I will never assume anything from you. Never take what you do not freely offer.”

Here he was, trying to reassure me that I was safe, when all I wanted him to do was ask.  Ask, and I would freely offer it. His warm brown eyes poured into me, and the well of emotions that had risen up inside my chest threatened to spill over onto my cheeks.  He was being so kind to me, and I was on the verge of crying anyway.

“I’ve really come to care about you,” he told me.  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “A great deal.”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” I said.  Now I really was going to cry. 

“I know it might sound strange, considering we haven’t known each other for that long,” he continued, drawing both hands into his lap and staring at them instead of at me.  “We’ve gone through so much together. You know all of my secrets. I think I know most of yours. We’ve saved each other’s lives a dozen times over. Maybe that does something to people.  Maybe it bonds them together in a way that… doesn’t happen for other people.”

I clutched the almost empty bottle of rum in my hands so hard, I thought it might shatter in my fingers.  The rum had gone to my head, and I felt like the room was starting to sway. Had the room gone to Alistair’s head too?  Would he remember this conversation in the morning? The tears spilled over onto my cheek. I couldn’t help it. I felt too much to keep it all in.

“Am I fooling myself?” he asked, looking back up at me.  “Do you think you could ever, or would ever… feel… that way about me?”

“What are you trying to tell me?  How  _ do _ you feel about me?” I realized I spoke the words out loud a moment too late, but they were said now.  He bit his lips, and it just made me want him more. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Because if you’re telling me that you think about kissing me every time you look at me, or that you have my scent memorized well enough to find me blindfolded, or that all your happiest memories are ones we shared together, then yes.  I feel the same way.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.  I couldn’t even gasp for breath as I waited for his response, so still were my lungs and beating heart.  If he never answered, I would turn to stone, a monument for all foolish women who fell in love alone. Time stretched into eternity, and we sat staring at each other, two unmoving, immovable planets in constant perfect orbit.

Then, very slowly, he reached for my hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it.


	12. Adore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and Alistair finally deal with their feelings.

I felt like my soul had come untethered from my body, but stayed in place anyway, anchored by the pleasure of his touch.  His hands were rough on mine; sword and shield calluses scraped against my much softer flesh, sending ripples of electricity along my skin.  His lips, on the other hand, were a contradiction: softer than fur, yet firmer than stone. Pleasure spread out from his kiss like spilled water on my body.  How divine my hand was, to be kissed by him first.

When he looked up at me, his honey eyes peering at me through his brows, I felt a crackle of electricity dance around me, starting at my core and expanding to the tips of my toes and fingertips.  The electricity washed over Alistair’s hand, too, and he shuddered. Whether it was from pain or pleasure, I did not know. But he didn’t let go of me, instead pulling me closer. 

I obeyed him eagerly, shifting to be as close as I dared, only inches separating us on the bench.  With his free hand, he brushed the remaining tears away with the pad of his thumb, then let his hand follow the curve of my neck to my shoulder.

“May I unbraid your hair?” he asked, his voice low and husky and heart-stopping.  I couldn’t answer properly, so I nodded. His fingers found the pins that held my braids to my scalp and pulled them free.  The time he had spent learning to braid back at the circle now proved to be well-spent. The two plaits tumbled free and fell on my shoulders, and Alistair gently fingered them until they were completely loose.  Then he kept fingering, winding the locks around this fingers in fascination.

“Alistair,” I said gently, pulling his attention back to me, his eyes back to my face.  “When I said I thought of kissing you, I didn’t mean just on the hand.”

“I know,” he said, smiling.  “But I want to take my time. I can’t take something like this lightly, and I want to give you plenty of time to change your mind.”

“I won’t,” I assured him.  One hand caressed mine, while the other worked its way to the back of my head, cradling it.  I encouraged him by sliding my free hand up the front of his chest.

“Still,” he replied.  “I need you to know that you can.  At any time. Even in the middle of the kiss, if you don’t like it, we’ll stop. I only ever want to touch you if  _ you _ want me to touch you.”

“I want you to touch me,” I said emphatically and leaned closer to him.

His breath tickled my skin, and I saw him smile the moment before our lips touched, and we kissed, truly kissed, for the first time.

All the promise held in his lips, the ones that had tantalized and tempted me for months now, came to fruition in this kiss.  It cleared my mind of everything except the places where we connected: hands, hair, chest, lips. The entire universe was contained in those places, and I could live and die a thousand times within them.  But it ended all too soon.

“Maker’s breath,” he swore, resting his forehead against mine. “You are beautiful.”

“You can tell that even with your eyes closed?” I teased.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.  “Could we try again, and this time I’ll pay better attention?”

I answered him with a kiss, more firm and hungry than it had been before.  Our lips opened and caressed each other, building a fire within my core that I was sure would engulf us in real flames. His hands were hungrier, too, pulling me closer until our whole bodies were touching, his fingers splayed in my hair, clinging tightly to me.

This time, we parted only for breath before kissing again.  I do not know how long we sat there entwined, perhaps minutes, perhaps years, but finally, we rested, the length of the night beckoning us to sleep.

When the furor of desire had faded, I thought clearly about the kiss. Before Alistair, I had only kissed two men.  No, that wasn’t right. I had kissed no one. I had been  _ kissed by _ two men, one as an assault, one as a misunderstanding.  They both were uncomfortable, and if I could scrub them from my memory, I would.  But kissing Alistair was something so completely different, I could hardly classify them as the same action.  It was euphoric, not just because the kiss itself was pleasurable, but because it made me feel as if Alistair and I shared the same space, the same body, if only for the moments we were kissing.  Everything I had wanted from him, he had given, and it was better than I could have dreamed.

“Do you still want to share the bed?” he asked cautiously.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked. 

“No reason, it’s just…” he trailed off, choosing his words carefully.  “When you first suggested it, you didn’t know how I felt. I don’t know if that changes things.”

“Do you intend to do more than sleep?” I asked, half hoping, half fearing, he would say yes.

“No! Of course not,” he rushed to assure me.  “ _ That’s _ a big step.  I’m not ready for it.  I do care for you, but like I said before, I want to take this slow.”  

“I do too,” I agreed. “I like...what we’ve done.  I think I want us to rest where we are, for a time.  There’s no need to rush.”

“Yes, I agree,” he exclaimed.  “We’re young. We don’t need to do anything hasty.  Anything that might have… long term consequences.”

“You mean like children,” I asked, saying the first thing that came to my mind.  That was a habit of his I was starting to pick up.

“...No,” he responded.  “I guess no one ever got around to telling you, what with the Blight and everything.  A Gray Warden is unlikely to have a child. It has something to do with the Joining Ritual and the darkspawn blood.  It would be hard enough if one of us wasn’t a Gray Warden, but both of us? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“Then what long term consequences do you mean?” I asked.  I wasn’t bothered by not being able to have children. That matter had been settled for me when I became a ward of the Circle.

“Like, feelings, and things,” he offered, his voice uncertain.  “I don’t know. I just always want you to like me.”

“I like you now,” I told him.  “I cannot see into the future, so I can’t say that will never change, but we cannot fix the future from where we sit in the present.  We just have to take things as they come.”

We turned down the covers and both crawled into bed, keeping a respectable distance between us.  I laid stiffly on my back, determined not to move or disturb him in any way. I wondered if it was as much a temptation for him to lie beside me and not touch me as it was for me to lie beside him and not touch him.  

“What if you could, though,” Alistair mused.  “Just wave your staff and look into the future, see if you liked it, and if you didn’t, change it!”

“It’s called time magic,” I told him.  “The Chantry has forbidden it, although I read a book that said it was a commonly studied topic in Tevinter.”

“The Chantry forbids everything fun,” he grumbled.

“Well, not everything,” I purred.  He laughed lightly, and we lapsed into silence.

I tried to sleep.  I was tired enough that I should have fallen into unconsciousness quickly and dreamed whatever terrible darkspawn dream awaited me.  But the longer I laid there, the more sleep eluded me. I couldn’t stop thinking of the body that lay mere inches from me.

“Alistair?” I softly called out. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes.”

“Um, would you…” what did I actually want him to do?  What would make me more comfortable? “Would you mind, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but could you just… wrap your arms around me?  Like when we fell asleep together at Kinloch Hold?”

He didn’t answer.  He simply rolled to his side and pulled me close to him.  I breathed deeply in time with him, snuggled into his warmth, and soon I drifted off to sleep.


	13. Blood is Thicker Than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona convinces Alistair to finally take charge of his own life.

We were woken by nothing.  No sunlight rising to shine on our faces.  No clamoring of movement by those already awake.  No vigorous shaking by a certain witch that didn’t sleep.  One moment I was in the comfortable blackness of sleep, and the next I was becoming aware of the softness of the sheets, the cool of the air, the press of Alistair beside me.

He stretched, yawned, and then shifted until we were face to face.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice scratchy from sleep. “Did you sleep very well?”

“I did,” I assured him.  “Not a single dream.”

“Not even of one dashing bastard prince?” he teased.  I placed my hand on his cheek, the prickle of his stubble sending tiny jolts of electricity up my arms.

“I think you feel too solid to be a dream,” I purred.  He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed me. It was a slow, lazy kiss, but it made my heart flutter nevertheless.  I hoped I could wake up to his kiss forever.

Our morning was slow.  We ate breakfast there at the tavern, and when Sten told us nothing had changed at Brother Genitivi’s house, we wandered into the market.  It was as exciting as I’d hoped it would be. The merchants had come from far off, exotic places like Rivain, Antiva, and the Anderfels. I loved listening to the stories they told, even though I was sure they were mostly embellished. Alistair scoffed and rolled his eyes at the most outlandish tails, and it was almost as entertaining to see him argue with their tedious grasp of facts as it was to listen to their stories in the first place.

Our market excursion was not entirely for entertainment’s sake, however.  We needed provisions if we were to keep traipsing around Ferelden. Wynne and Leliana needed new boots.  The padding Alistair wore under his armor was deteriorating faster than my spells could keep up with, so that needed to be replaced.  I hadn’t intended to get Barkspawn a new collar, but when I found one with fearsome looking spikes, I couldn’t resist buying it. For Zevran, I bought bracers, as he had gone without for too long now.  I wanted to buy upgraded equipment for Sten, as well, but nothing was made in his size, and custom items were simply too expensive. The gold we had acquired by evicting the mercenaries needed to last us a long time, and that meant buying second-hand or already-made.  I’m sure Sten wouldn’t complain.

“What about this?” Alistair asked, picking up a leather belt.  It was of fine craftsmanship, with an intricate pattern tooled into it.

“That one’s enchanted,” the merchant informed us. “It protects against fire damage, as you can see by the runes carved here.  Additionally, it keeps the wearer from getting fatigued in battle, although, it seems to only work when the wearer is already injured, which makes it less than ideal.  I can sell it to you for five gold.”

“Five gold?” exclaimed Alistair.  “You have got to be out of your mind!”

“Fire is an ever-pressing hazard in the city.  Three tenements south of the river went up in the past month. You never know when it might come in handy,” he responded, shrugging.  “If you pass it up, someone will buy it before the day’s end, mark my words.”

“What a rude awakening when they catch on fire along with their house,” I commented, bending the belt at the fire rune, exposing a cut that bisected it, rendering it useless. “Runes must be whole to be effective.”

“I… uh...Where did that come from?” the merchant sputtered, looking nervous and wringing his hands.

“Sergeant Kylon made it clear he owed us a favor when we dealt with those mercenaries, didn’t he?” I asked Alistair.  He looked confused for a moment, then caught on.

“You’re right,” he agreed.  “And he made it clear that keeping the Market District safe from swindlers and cheats was his number one priority.”

“Look, it was an honest mistake,” the merchant protested.  “I didn’t know that was there, I swear.” 

“I think we’ll have to report it, anyway,” I said gravely.  “Someone will need to check the previous equipment you’ve sold, make sure it isn’t also damaged.”

“No! That’ll ruin my reputation!  I’ll never be able to sell in this city again!” he cried, practically lunging over the table, scattering goods, desperately trying to snatch back the belt.  “Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t report me.”

“Anything?” I asked.  “Like swear an oath not to cheat people ever again?”

“Yes, yes,” he cried.

“And hand over any damaged goods you have here,” Alistair added.

“Of course,” he agreed, hastily gathering things together.  Once he had turned them over to Alistair, I extended my hand.  He warily took it.

“Swear it,” I told him, taking out my staff.  His eyes grew large out of fear, but he did as commanded.  As he spoke, I let small, relatively harmless sparks of electricity dance over our bound hands.  “If you break your oath, I will know, and I will return, without mercy.”

It wasn’t until we had left him well behind that Alistair and I burst out laughing.

“Did you see his face when you mentioned Kylon?” Alistair giggled.

“Oh, and when I took out my staff, that was too good,” I agreed.  

“Was that a real spell you cast?” he asked.

“No, but he’ll never know that,” I confessed.  “And if it makes him honest, then the deception is worth it.”

Alistair looked at me with admiration, an approving smile growing wider on his face.  He shook his head, then grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me. 

“You are magnificent,” he breathed, then kissed me again. He let his kisses pepper my mouth, cheeks, nose, and forehead as he rained down praise.  “Amazing. Clever. Fierce. Kind. Valliant. Perfect.”

When he had finished, we stood for some time with our foreheads pressed together, just staring at each other in fondness.  I had so many emotions welling up inside me, I didn’t know how I would possibly contain them all. But I was here, with him, and perfectly content.

He finally pulled away and looked around us.  We had wandered off the beaten path a bit, but we were still close to the square.  There were more houses here, as evidenced by the lines of clothing strung up to dry in the sun.  A shadow crossed his face, and he suddenly looked uncertain.

“I… do you think, as long as we’re here, in Denerim, we could…look someone up?” he asked, chewing his lip with uncertainty.

“Someone like…” I pressed.

“That’s my sister’s house,” he replied, pointing at the worn door with the word laundry painted on it.  “I told you about my mother, right? She had a daughter, my half-sister, only I never knew about her.”

“Have you contacted her?” I asked.

“No…” he replied hesitantly, still gazing at the door.  “I thought about writing her, but then… and then we came here, and I thought, why not just knock, say hi.  But then I chickened out. And now, we’re here, and…”

“Do you think she’s home?” I asked, picking up where he trailed off.

“She could be inside,” he shrugged, then looked back at me, his brown eyes nervous.  “Could we go and see?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked, taking his hand.  He squeezed it tightly, then immediately began babbling. He was trying out different pronunciations of the word sister before I was able to tug him to the door.

We knocked at the door first, but no one came to answer it.  Considering it was a place of business, I only felt a little hesitant pushing open the door and entering unasked, Alistair whispering his doubts the whole time. The inside was indeed a laundry, with steaming basins full of soaking garments.

“Er...hello?” Alistair called, and out of the mist stepped the woman he claimed to be his sister.  It wasn’t like how it had been with Cailan, where I could see distinct similarities between them. She was pale and red-haired, tall, boney, and had a harsh face that might have been handsome ten years ago, but now reflected the unkindness of a life of hard labor.  Except for the color of her eyes, she looked nothing like Alistair. If they were related, she must have gotten all of her traits from her father, while Alistair must have looked more like their mother.

When she saw us, she launched into a pitch for washing our linens, and it took a moment before Alistair could cut in to explain who he was and why he had come.  She listened for a moment, her face inscrutable, before she launched into an angry tirade against the people at the castle who had convinced her that her baby brother was dead.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” Alistair explained.  “The baby didn’t die. I’m him. I’m your brother.”

It was clear Alistair was expecting a warm welcome into a loving family.  It was what his Fade dream had been about, when we fought the Sloth Demon.  All he wanted was a family to love him and claim him, as his father had never done.  I was braced for the worst, however. My family was as poor as Goldanna, and they had sold me to the Circle without a second thought.  I supposed it was possible Goldanna would be a loving sister, but the hard life of poverty beat out soft emotions like compassion, contentment, and familial love, and the lines on her face showed that she had endured quite a beating from both poverty and the nobility.  

When she accused Alistair of killing her mother, I knew that my fears had come to pass, just as his dreams had been dashed.  She rejected him completely and made it clear that her only interest in him was his money. It broke my heart to see his face fall as she talked.  I could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide how much gold would make her love him, but when he reached for his purse, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Let’s go, now,” I implored him.  He shook his head at first, then sighed in resignation.

“I agree,” he said reluctantly. “Let’s get out of here.”

We started to walk back to the Gnawed Noble Tavern.  The sun was just about at its highest point, and we would need to meet Leliana and Zevran soon, assuming they were able to rouse themselves after whatever events had conspired at The Pearl after we left.  The silence around Alistair was heavy. He looked like a kicked puppy, and I just couldn’t let it continue.

“Do you remember me telling you about my family?” I asked.  He nodded. “My own flesh and blood rejected me, without ever really getting to know me.”

“So you’re saying we’re alike,” he replied, his voice flat.

“When I got to the Circle, I was terrified of letting anyone get close to me again.  Terrified they would abandon or betray me, if I gave them the chance,” I continued. “Then, I met Jowan.  He was the first person I let myself care about, the first person I trusted to have my back, to not sell me out.  By that time, I was an angry eleven-year-old, and I didn’t want any friends, so Jowan had his work cut out for him.  But he showed me this book, and I’ll never forget this one line: ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’”

“Should that mean something?” Alistair asked.  

“It means that there are two types of families,” I explained.  “The first type, the type that everyone has, and everyone thinks they need, are familial bonds.  You and Goldanna shared the water of the womb. Cailan too, although more metaphorically. But water breaks.  It’s one moment of happenstance, and it doesn’t have to control your whole life.

“The second type is the blood of the covenant. Those people you choose to have in your life, the ones you spill blood with and for.  The ones you pledge yourself to. That type of family is so much stronger. That’s you and me. When I took the Joining, I made a choice, and you did too, and it is our choices that have bound us together, and our choices that make our bond stronger than any kin you could have.”

I waited a moment while he thought it over.  I didn’t know if I was making any sense, but I didn’t want him to continue to think that his worth hinged upon the acceptance of people who ultimately didn’t matter.  Alistair was worth so much more than any of his blood relations had given him.

“I haven’t been able to make many choices in my life,” he finally said.  “They’ve always been made for me, and it’s always had something to do with who my parents were.  You were the first person I actually chose.”

“You need to start making your own decisions, Alistair,” I said, taking both of his hands and squeezing them.  “If you become a great man, a hero, a leader, a king, it will be because that is what you have chosen to become, and not what someone else has decided for you.  If you stay a simple Gray Warden, following orders and never rising any higher, that, too, will be because it was your decision, and not because someone kept you from something greater.”

He sighed again, but stood up a little straighter, and looked me in the eyes.  “I’ve never been good at standing up for myself,” he admitted. “And I guess I’ve always taken the role of the follower because I was told so often I could never lead.”

“Cailan isn’t king anymore,” I gently reminded him. “You could be king, if you wanted it, but no one could force it on you.  Start looking out for yourself, instead of expecting others to give you your place in the world.”

“I...I’ll try,” he said, hesitant, but willing.  It was all I wanted for him. “Does this mean I have to stop following your orders, too?”

“No,” I replied quickly, both of us fighting smiles. “You chose to follow me, remember.  You can’t take back that choice now; it’s the only one you’ve made.”

“Well, not the only one,” he said, then leaned in for one last kiss before we met the rest of our party.

They were waiting for us by Sten, still positioned outside Genitivi’s house.  Zevran and Leliana were deep in argument, both looking a little worn around the edges.

“I don’t dislike it,” Zevran protested.  “I just don’t like having it sprung on me without warning.”

“I did warn you,” Leliana countered.  “That’s why my hand was there.”

“A hand is not a warning,” hissed the elf. 

“It was when I slapped you,” she grumbled in return.  “And besides, not five minutes later, you were begging Isabel to do the same thing.”

“That’s because she’s good at it,” he snapped back.

“I’m good at it too, and it would have felt good for you if you hadn’t moved suddenly,” Leliana defended.

“I wouldn’t have moved if you hadn’t stuck a-”

“Silence,” Sten growled.  The two quit their bickering but threw angry glances in each other’s directions.  Sten turned to me, explaining, “They have been arguing for a full half-hour about things I would have wished not to know.”

“So…” Alistair teased.  “Last night sounded fun for you two.”

Leliana and Zevran immediately started in on it again, both talking over the other and at such a rapid pace I couldn’t follow.  For that, I was grateful. They only stopped again when Morrigan appeared spontaneously between them. They startled, and each took a step back.

“I see many of us had entertaining evenings,” she drawled, looking pleased at startling them.  “I myself quite enjoyed my activities, especially when I discovered I had a mabari as a shadow.”

Her last words were directed at me, and I shrank under her deceiving smile.  “Um, I wondered where he went,” I lied.

“No matter,” she declared, sweeping it off with a wave of her hand.  “He proved quite useful when I encountered a few street thugs with protections against magic.  And he’ll never tell my secrets, so he’s the least offensive shadow you could have sent.”

“I just wanted you to be safe,” I told her.

“Indeed.  And now I will repay you for your kindness,” she replied, reaching into her satchel.  I couldn’t tell if she was actually mad or not, so I had no idea what to expect her to pull out of the bag.  I certainly didn’t predict a set of finely-worked emerald green robes. “I noticed it’s difficult to acquire items for mages in the city, there not being a sizeable legal mage population, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be found.”

She passed the robes to me, and I inspected them.  The front was constructed from six different panels, each with its own protective rune sewn into the embroidery with gold thread.  The skirts were long and flowing, arranged in pleats that would allow extensive movement without the danger of catching on every hook and corner.  There were even pockets, which could be buckled closed to secure any items from pickpockets. I had never seen such fine robes in the Circle, let alone imagined I’d be able to wear them.

“The lining is reinforced with threads of spider’s silk, which makes it more resilient against blades,” Morrigan described.  “And the hem is weighted, which makes it easier to control. I doubt you will find better robes outside of Tevinter.”

“How much did it cost?” I asked, in awe.

“Twas nothing to fret over,” she said airily.  “Our fearless leader must have the best equipment, especially if she is to lead us against the darkspawn.”

I didn’t press for any more information.  I had a feeling Morrigan had not paid for these with coins,  _ if _ she had paid for them at all.  I looked at Barkspawn, sniffing at Genitivi’s door, and was a little glad he would never tell me their origin. 

“The hound has been very interested in that door since he returned,” Sten commented.  “No one has come or gone, but perhaps there is something inside we should investigate.”

“I thought you said two days,” I commented.

“That was before I spent a day observing the banalities of this place you call a city.  The Qun would never allow such chaos,” he compared. “I would rather we investigate now, and be free of this place.”

The instincts of Sten and Barkspawn proved to be reliable.  Inside, we once again found Weylon, Genitivi’s assistant. He was more nervous than he had been before and kept changing his story.  First, he didn’t want us to go after the missing Genitivi. Then, he couldn’t wait for us to rescue him. I didn’t trust the man one bit.  Barkspawn whined at an interior door, and when we tried to open it, Weylon attacked. He fell quickly, and inside we found the murdered body of the real Weylon, as well as some research notes that pointed to a village in the Frostback Mountains called Haven.

“There’s an entrance to Orzammar in the Frostbacks too,” Alistair recalled.  “As long as we’re going that way, we should meet with the Dwarves and use the treaties.”

“From what I know of Dwarves, they don’t involve themselves in the affairs of the surface,” Leliana cautioned.  “Are you sure they can be persuaded?”

“The Dwarves have always respected the Gray Wardens,” Alistair explained.  “They fight the darkspawn just as much as we do, and they can’t be discounted.”

“If we take the North Road, we’ll pass by some of the Bannorn Teagan said had spoken out against Loghain,” I suggested.  “We should reach out to them. Get their support while we can.”

After a bit more planning, all was set.  We would wait for Wynne, then set out for Orzammar by way of the North Road.  After that, we would find Haven, find Brother Genitivi, and find the Ashes of Andraste.  Arl Eamon would live, Loghain would be reasoned with, or beat into submission, and we would ride against the darkspawn to save all of Thedas.  It was simple, really.


	14. First Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party journeys through the Bannorn, and Alistair's diplomatic abilities are put to the test. He and Solona take their relationship to the next level.

The Bannorn was the heart of Ferelden.  Small pockets of forests were interspersed with rolling fields, orchards, pastures, and quaint villages popping up around impressive castles.  None were quite as big as Redcliffe castle, but they still stood out among the thatched roofs of the surrounding homes. Most of the people were welcoming and friendly, if a little fearful, when they saw my party come through.  Morrigan and Sten often hung back, but Leliana and Wynne were like ambassadors, both for the Gray Wardens and for Alistair himself. At first, he resisted any special attention, but he always seemed to find himself holding court at whatever tavern we stopped at, listening to the concerns and plights of the common people.  They loved Loghain, but they feared him too, and more than that, they feared the encroaching darkspawn forces that threatened both their lives and their livelihood. Alistair did what few of the nobility had ever done; he listened to their concerns with complete attention and seriousness.

The Banns themselves were another story.  Some welcomed Alistair, but not for his own sake.  They bristled over Loghain’s grab for power, they were in personal disputes with other Banns that supported him, or they wanted to use Alistair to advance their own standing. They were at least helpful in warning us away from Banns who would turn on us the second we arrived. The most infuriating for Alistair, however, were those without clear allegiances. They wanted favors done before they would pledge support, or they wanted Alistair to prove his competence in some way, but gave no indication they wouldn’t turn on him later to curry favor with Loghain. One clearly wanted Alistair to take his youngest daughter off his hands by marrying her, despite the fact that she was ten years Alistair’s senior.

One night, not far from Lake Calenhad, Alistair snapped.

“I don’t know if I even want to be king!” he shouted at an innocent tree.  We were camped in an orchard outside a cluster of houses that could loosely be defined as a village, having left behind another non-committal Bann.  I didn’t fear anyone overhearing us, especially with most of the party still eating their fill with the villagers who had welcomed us after we cut down a small pocket of genlocks.  “They want me to beg for a crown, but I barely want the crown. Arl Eamon should be doing this, not me.”

“I know,” I said, for what felt like the hundredth time.  “But there’s no guarantee we’ll find the ashes. And if we do, there’s no guarantee it will heal him.”

“Yes, yes, and if we wait, it might be too late,” he finished, exasperated.  “I just feel like a fraud, and I feel like everyone knows I’m a fraud.”

I pulled him down to sit beside me on a stump and wrapped my arms around his waist.  He couldn’t resist me when I did that, and he exhaled the tension he held in his chest and wrapped his arms around me in return.

“You’re not a fraud,” I reassured him.  “The people like you, and the Banns are learning to respect you.  Each time you meet with one, you come across more confident and assured than the time before.  Don’t let their stubborn selfishness fuel your self-doubt.”

“They expect a lot from their future king,” Alistair complained.

“You don’t have to meet their expectations,” I reminded him.  “You only have to meet your own expectations. Give them what they want only when you think it is necessary to give it.  Sometimes telling them no is what they need to hear most of all.”

“You would be a good king,” he joked.  “You have a better temperament for it, and the kind of good heart that would make your people love you, just as I…”

He trailed off before he finished his sentence, but I could guess what he was going to say.  Our journey had not afforded us much alone time. We walked together, often deep in conversation, but with the others around, I couldn’t hold his hand, or kiss him, or tell him I adored him.  We slipped away when we could, stealing kisses in the shadows instead of gathering firewood, giving each other knowing glances across the fire. But we hadn’t had much time to talk about us, and stolen kisses were as far as we ever got.

The weather was too cold now to sleep without tents, for everyone except Sten.  He still slept on a bedroll, and lately he had parked it next to my tent. It was too risky for either of us to slip into the tent of the other while he was there, so we had not slept together since Denerim.  I missed his arms around me. It seemed he did too.

“What if we sent everyone else on ahead, to meet us at Orzammar, and we just took a different route, just the two of us,” he mused.

“How would we explain that?” I asked.

“Uh, we could… tell them…” he thought. “Nevermind, my head’s completely empty.”

“Careful. If Morrigan hears you saying that, she’ll take it as an admission of stupidity,” I warned him.

“It’s not my fault,” he protested.  “It’s you. Every time I’m around you, I feel as if my head’s about to explode.  I can’t think straight.”

“Oh? Thanks a lot,” I said in mock hurt.

“No! I didn’t mean it like that,” he argued. He let go of me and stood up. For a moment he sort of… paced back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, his face screwed up in frustration.  Then he stopped, stood up straight, and stared right at me.

“Alistair?” I questioned.  He seemed far too serious for my liking.

“Here’s the thing,” he said, his hands punctuating his sentences in the air.  “Being near you makes me crazy, but I can’t imagine being without you. Not ever.”

My heart stopped beating and dropped to the ground, taking my stomach with it.  My lungs attempted to keep breathing, but entirely forgot to take in air, and just sort of spasmed within my chest.  I had only had a month or so to adjust to him caring for me, kissing me the way I had dreamed, and now… it felt like he was on the verge of making a life-changing proclamation, but I couldn’t dare hope what it would be.

“I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place, but when will it be perfect?” he continued. “We sort of...stumbled into each other. And despite this being the least perfect time, I still found myself falling for you in between all the fighting and everything else.  Maybe this is too fast, I don’t know, but I know what I feel. I love you.”

I felt tears streaming down my face.  I had never cried in the Circle, no matter how awful things became.  And yet, every time Alistair opened his mouth and confessed his feelings, I was so overcome with emotions, I either had to cry or I would set everything alight with electricity.  

“Are you...are you crying because you’re happy?” he asked, his face uncertain.  “Or are you crying because you’re about to break my heart.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but a sob ripped out of me instead.  Alistair came to me, drawing me into his arms, wiping the tears from my face. I finally muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing circles on my back.  “I know that you...you shouldn’t feel bad for turning me down.  I’m not going to hold it against you. I’ll cherish all the times we kissed, but you’re not beholden to me, and I don’t want you to pretend you feel some way you don’t.”

Morrigan was right. He was the stupidest one in our party.  I couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he tried to comfort me even though he thought he was the one being rejected.

“Okay, just because I said you didn’t have to feel bad, doesn't mean you should just mock me,” he muttered, his voice annoyed.

“I was apologizing for crying, you buffoon,” I finally choked out, pushing myself free of him.  “Nothing else. I’m not breaking your heart.”

“You’re not,” he asked, now more confused than ever.

“Absolutely not,” I declared, wiping the last of the tears from my eyes.  “I am not now, nor do I ever intend to. I make you stupid, and you make me so emotional I either have to cry or shock something. But I don’t have to imagine my life without you.  I know what it would be like, and I don’t ever want to experience it again. I love you, Alistair Theirin. I have loved you for quite some time now, and as long as you want me, I am yours.”

And then we were kissing.  Our mouths opened for each other, our lips hungry, our tongues teasing.  My hands slid up over his chest and shoulders and into his hair, clutching his head to me.  His hands circled my waist and pulled me tight to him, pressing the length of his body to mine.  I wished fervently that his armor did not stand between us.

I kissed him like I would never be satisfied, and as our lips met again and again, I realized I wouldn’t be.  His hands held me firmly to him, but they did not wander, and they did not reach for the laces holding my robes on, nor clutch the skirt in his hands.  He wanted me, I knew he did, but he was holding himself back. If I wanted to be satisfied, I would have to take matters into my own hands.

“Alistair,” I whispered against his lips, loosening my grip on his hair.

“Your desire is my command,” he breathed back, his voice low and husky with desire.

“The others will be returning soon,” I said.

“Right, we shouldn’t let them...catch us, like this I mean,” he said, pulling away from me.  I didn’t let him get too far.

“I meant, would you be willing…” I tried to find the right words to ask him this.  “Would you like to, I mean, join me in my tent?”

“In your tent?” he repeated, apprehension in his voice.  I started to regret asking him. This was too soon. Just because he loved me didn’t mean he wanted to make love to me.  

“We don’t have to,” I rushed to assure him. “Only if you want to.”

“Oh, that’s not it.  At all,” he clarified.  “You know that I’ve never done anything like this.  With anyone.”

“Neither have I,” I reminded him.  

“Yes, I remember,” he said, nodding. “I care for you so much.  But whenever I think of this, I’m a bumbling idiot. All hands.”

“It scares me too,” I confessed.  “I don’t know… how to do anything, really.  And what if you don’t like… me. What I look like.  Or what I...feel like.”

“Please don’t doubt your beauty,” Alistair pleaded, reaching for my hands.  I let him take them and press each one to his lips in turn. “I just want this to be right.”

“Do you want to wait?” I asked him.  He thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Not if you don’t,” he answered.  “I want to be with you, while we have the chance. In case…”

He didn’t have to finish his thought.  We both knew how many unknowns were in our future, how many battles we still had to fight, how many paths we’d have to walk down.  I wanted to be with him forever, but there was no forever in a Blight. There was only right now.

I led him to my tent.  It was the largest of them, by virtue of my being the leader of this motley band of warriors, which made it big enough for the both of us.  Once we were inside, the significance of what we were about to do hit us both, and for a moment we just stared at each other, unsure of how to proceed.

“I think your armor has to come off,” I suggested.

“Oh, right. Of course,” he agreed, and started fumbling with the buckles.  Every day, he was able to put on and take off the plates and chainmail all by himself, but now, it was like he had never done it before.  I only let him struggle for a moment before I interceded.

“Let me,” I said, stilling his hands with my own.  I worked each buckle individually, removing his armor piece by piece.  He stayed still, watching my movements with keen eyes, his breathing slightly ragged.  Once the armor had been placed aside and the chainmail removed, I began to untie the laces of his padding.  They were tied in neat bows at his side, and came free with a tug on the loose ends. Then I pulled it off over his head.  All that remained was his tunic and small clothes.

I had seen him in only this before, both times when I had shared a bed with him, but somehow tonight it felt different.  It was more intimate, seeing him in so little, knowing I’d soon remove that too. 

I found the hem of his tunic and slipped my hands underneath until my palms rested on the flat of his stomach.  His skin was hot and smooth, the definition of his muscles clear under my fingers. I splayed them, and his muscles flexed.  It sent shivers down my spine. I let my hands glide over the flat, hard planes of his torso, moving up to his shoulders, dragging his tunic with them.  Once his chest was exposed, he lifted his arms, and I freed him of the fabric.

I paused to admire the form before me.  Alistair was handsome, his body lean and toned from his training.  Wispy, blonde curls stood out on his chest, contrasting beautifully with the dark of his skin.  My hands looked impossibly pale in comparison. He had a few scars that bisected the skin, but they only added to his beauty.  I ran my fingers through the hair on his chest, then followed the trail downward as it thinned and ultimately disappeared beneath his small clothes.

My hands trembled on the laces at their front.  I had seen a bare chested man before, although none as moving as Alistair, but I had never seen this.  It was a secret I had always been frightened to discover, but now, at the precipice of unveiling, I trembled with excitement, not fear.

I pulled them down slowly, uncovering his hips an inch at a time.  His hips had their own enticing lines that I couldn’t help but run my fingers over, lines that drew my attention to the center.  The trail of curls that had almost disappeared at his navel suddenly grew thick, and with one more tug, I feed what lay hidden within.

It stood erect and firm before me, with a thick shaft and a round, glistening head.  I looked up at Alistair in surprise, only to find him breathing heavily, his eyes half closed.  Nothing I had read about in the Circle libraries had entirely prepared me for this sight. I had known what it was, of course, but reading about it and seeing it were two completely different experiences.  I reached out a hand to touch it, but Alistair caught me by the wrist and pulled me close for a greedy kiss.

“My turn,” he growled.  

He started with something he had done before.  He pulled the pins that kept my braids in perfect coils, and let them tumble free.  He ran his fingers through the tresses, massaged my scalp, and buried his head in my neck, breathing in my scent as he collected himself.  

Once he could continue, he moved on to the laces of my robes.  He moved torturously slow, pulling one lace out at a time. I wanted him to rip the clothing from me, but he had let me undress him, and it was only fair I repaid the favor.  The laces ended where my back did, at the swell of my behind. He let his fingers brush over the round muscles, then drag back up to my neck, before pushing the robes off my shoulders.  The garment pooled around my feet.

The next barrier was my stays, and he handled them in much the same fashion as he had my robes, pulling out each lace one at a time.  When that fell away, all that was left between us was my shift. He paused before removing it, letting his hands rub up and down my arms, kissing the crook of my neck, and pressing the length of his body against my backside.  I could feel his stiffness press into me, the thin linen of my shift a poor defense against it.

Finally, he gathered the hem in his hands and pulled it up and over my head.  I turned around to face him, and let him gaze at me, taking in all that I was.  His eyes roamed over my whole body, from my arms and legs, to my breasts, my stomach, and the dark patch where my thighs met.  Only once his eyes had drank their fill did he touch me again.

His hands were firm and gentle, as he guided me onto my back and ran his fingers over every curve and plane.  Six months ago, I had been soft, but now there was a hardness to my body that made my soft parts all the more soft in comparison.  His lips followed his fingers, kissing my collar bone, my stomach, my hips, my shoulders, the swell of my breasts. When he caught one of my nipples between his lips, I shuddered. A small spark of electricity shot out of me, and zapped him on the lips.

“Ouch,” he cried, drawing back.  My face flushed with heat.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized.  “I’m usually much better about controlling that.”

“It’s okay,” he assured me, letting his hand take over where his lips were.  It was still pleasurable, but not enough to send sparks out to hurt him. “I can take a few shocks.”

He lowered his lips to mine, kissing me languidly, confidently, without fear of pain.  His hands kept exploring, learning the swell of every curve from my neck to my knees. I shifted beneath him until his hips rested between mine, his stiffness pressing almost painfully into my thigh.  My core was an intense ache of need, hot and throbbing. A pressure was slowly building, and I pressed my hips against him, searching for release.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair cursed, breaking our kiss.  He peered down into my eyes, love, devotion, and desire in his gaze.  “I am a lucky man.”

“Alistair,” I pleaded. “I want you so much it hurts.”

“I know my love,” he whispered.  “But before we get too far, I want to try something.”

“Try what?” I asked.  His ears turned red before he answered.

“It’s just something that I heard about,” he said evasively.  “Supposedly, women enjoy it quite a bit.”

“Who did you hear it from?” I questioned suspiciously.  “Was it Zevran?”

“I, uh, yes, it was,” he admitted.  “But Leliana and Isabela didn’t seem to be repulsed by him, so he must know something right?  Anyway, if you don’t like it, I’ll stop immediately.”

“Tell me what it is, first,” I demanded.  His blush spread to his whole face.

“I’m going to, you know…” he trailed off, hoping I would let him off the hook.  I didn’t. “I’m going to kiss you. Between, ah... between your legs.”

I didn’t move for a moment.  My mind was shocked, but the place between my legs contracted, clearly in favor of being kissed.  I couldn’t see how Alistair would enjoy it, but I leaned back and spread my legs anyway.

My mind was a fool.  My body knew what it wanted.  Alistair kissed his way down to my hips until his lips found the crease between my legs.  This was a different kind of electricity. It wasn’t magic, or if it was, not any kind I was familiar with, but his administrations sent jolts throughout my whole body nonetheless. I had never felt pleasure like this before, the kind that made my whole body contract in a deliciously primal way.  There was a fire building inside me, a pressure that came from my innermost center and verged on unbearableness. 

A moan escaped my lips, and Alistair responded to it by hooking his hands under my hips and pulling my sex closer to his face.  I felt unmoored, like my body was floating away until all that was left was the slick heat he licked at between my legs. I grasped the hair on his head to hold myself in place, or perhaps to hold him in place.  My hips bucked against his mouth; I had no control over them any longer. I had no control over anything in my body any longer. There was just the ache, the need, the desire, and the moans I couldn’t hold in.

“Alistair,” I whimpered. “I can’t...I can’t take it.”

I thought, if he continued, I would break into a million little pieces, taking the whole world within me.  He was not merciful. Instead, he sucked on a part of me I hadn’t even know existed. My moans became more like cries. Finally, I let a small tendril of electricity arch from my fingers, still tightly bound in his hair, to the skin of his scalp.

Alistair pulled free and looked up at me, his lustful smile dripping with my wetness.  I pulled him up to me, and he kissed me deeply, passionately, letting me taste myself on his tongue.  While he kissed me, he reached his hand down to where his mouth had just been, letting two fingers slip inside.  My body sighed at his entrance. His fingers were not filling, but the pressure they gave fulfilled the craving that had been building since he first kissed me. Too soon, he withdrew them and withdrew from my kiss.

“I’m going to go inside you, now,” he warned me.

“I want you to,” I responded.  

“I’ll go slowly.  If it hurts at all, I’ll stop,” he promised.

“Why would it hurt?” I asked, confused.  I had never felt so much pleasure in my life, and I knew this was what my body wanted.  If it was painful, why would anyone ever do it?

“I don’t know,” Alistair admitted.  “I’ve just heard that it usually hurts for the woman, the first time.”

“I don’t care,” I said, caressing the side of his face.  “I don’t believe that you could ever hurt me.”

I pulled him back into a kiss, and that reassured him.  Still, he moved slowly. He leaned back, away from me, to watch what he was doing.  He grasped his thickness and guided it to the entrance of my sex, letting the head rub along the crease before pushing inside.  

Being penetrated by his member was not at all the same as being penetrated by his fingers.  I felt myself stretching around his girth, my body struggling to accommodate his size. Each agonizing inch he entered sent vibrations of pleasure rippling out from my core and ending in the tips of my toes and fingers.  I moaned in pleasure, one hand digging into his shoulder, the other on his buttocks, encouraging his entrance. Once he was fully sheathed inside me, he stopped moving.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, worry on his brows and in his voice.

“No,” I panted.  “It feels… so much.”

“A good so much?” he pressed.  I couldn’t talk anymore. I just shook my head vigorously up and down, and let my hips rock gently against him. 

When he was satisfied I wasn’t in pain, he began to move again.  He pulled out of me slowly, until just his head remained within, then pushed all the way back inside.  I wrapped my legs around his hips, trapping him close to me. Again, he pulled out as far as I would let him before letting his hips rock forward to meet mine.

This pleasure was intense, but different than what he had done with his mouth.  If that had been a gourmet dessert, this was a hearty stock after starving for days.  It wasn’t as concentrated, but it built on itself with his every thrust, electrifying me from the inside out.  I moaned with each movement, and as his thrusts picked up in pace, his own cries of pleasure joined mine in an erotic harmony.  

The whole of Thedas ceased to exist.  There was no Ferelden, no Blight, no orchard, no tent even.  There was only our bodies moving together, and we were the whole universe.  Time itself began and ended at the meeting of our bodies. 

Alistair’s arms wrapped around me, drawing me even closer, and he bit into my shoulder.  It only hurt a little, but the sudden pain made the pleasure more intense. I felt as if I were standing on a cliff’s edge, an angry ocean dancing before me.  One small explosion within me and I would burst over the edge and plunge into the depths below. I could feel the explosion brewing between my hips, but it stayed just on the edge, teasing me mercilessly.

“Solona,” Alistair whispered.  “I can’t last much longer.”

“Hold on a little longer,” I pleaded.  I wasn’t ready to be finished, yet. I wanted the explosion.  I wanted to plummet off the cliff. My hand found its way between us, reaching for my own sex.  Alistair leaned back to give me room, putting his weight on his knees and gripping my hips to hold me in place.  The new angle gave new sensations within me, but also gave me access to the same bud he had sucked on earlier, the one that had threatened to destroy me.

I rubbed the nub, slick with my own wetness, as Alistair’s thrusts became more urgent, more forceful.  He clenched his eyes closed, and I clenched around him, the twin sensations of him moving within me and my own administrations sending my body into spasms.  I couldn’t concentrate anymore. My mind went blank as my body burst through some sort of wall, pleasure exploding violently within me and sending me over the edge.  I screamed, my back arched, and I flailed for purchase on anything that would tether me to this world.

Alistair’s weight came down on me, pinning me to the earth.  He continued his pace as the spasms wracked through me until they finally died down.  My entire body went limp, too exhausted to hold itself together any more. Soon after, Alistair met his own explosion, and he collapsed on top of me.

Time lost meaning for a while.  I lazily dragged my fingers up and down his back, enjoying the pressure of him laying on me.  I’m not sure if we slept, or were simply too addled by the post-coital bliss of our union, but we didn’t move until the sounds of our party making camp around us were well established.

“How am I supposed to sneak back into my tent with everyone around us?” Alistair finally asked, his breath tickling the flesh of my breast.  

“Don’t?” I suggested.  “Stay the night. Everyone will think you’re in your tent.  You can sneak back in the morning, when Sten gets up to relieve himself.  He’s always the first to wake.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, rolling off of me and moving to my side.

“He sleeps outside my tent, and he’s not stealthy,” I answered.  “Stay. Please.”

“How could I say no to you?” he mused and pulled me into his arms.


	15. Stairway to Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona gets some unwanted advice, and her affair with Alistair becomes public knowledge.

If the journey along the North Road had been frustrating for Alistair and I, then the journey into the Frostback Mountains was decidedly torture.  Once we passed north of Lake Calenhad, we left behind the Bannorn, and villages became fewer and farther apart. More and more, we camped in the wilderness, now battling snow and ice more than bandits and darkspawn.  

And we were never alone.  The stolen kisses that had satisfied me before were no longer enough to satisfy the ache I often had for him.  I was in a terrible mood because of it and snapped at the slightest provocation. I was tempted to cook a sleeping potion into everyone’s food, just so Alistair and I could have one uninterrupted night together, but I just couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of my comrades like that.  It wasn’t their fault I was carrying on a secret affair, and they shouldn’t be punished for it. Things came to a head when we were just a day or two from Orzammar, and I snapped at Barkspawn for dropping a stick into my lap.

“I don’t want to play,” I growled, and hurled the stick into the campfire.  Barkspawn whined and left me for Sten.

“My, but we are disagreeable today,” Morrigan commented.  “I do not enjoy the dog’s games either, but he is a dog, and it seems cruel to set his things on fire.”

“You know you’re in a dark place when Morrigan is calling you cruel and disagreeable,” Wynne chucked.  I glowered at her. Zevran came and sat down next to me.

“I know what you need,” he proclaimed.  “It has been too long since you have been properly worshipped.  Everyone must have their desires attended to, or their life begins to look bleak and dismal.”

“Oh, brother,” Leliana groaned.  “Here he goes.”

“Do not worry,” Zevran assure me.  “I am very capable of satisfying you.  All you need do is ask. Leliana can attest to my skills as a lover.”

“I can do no such thing,” she protested.  “As far as I’m concerned, I was only with Isabela that night.”

“Let me take you to bed, dear Warden,” Zevran offered, waving off Leliana’s comments.  “You need taking care of by a highly skilled elf.”

“The bloody hell she does,” Alistair spat, jumping up from his place across the fire.  “You keep your hands off of her.”

“Oh, are you jealous, Alistair?” Zevran teased.  “Perhaps you think you would do a better job of it.”

“What? I..no! What?” Alistair sputtered.  I felt mortified. Zevran was right. What he was suggesting was exactly what I needed, only I needed it with Alistair, and we hadn’t decided to let everyone in on our little secret.

“He does often whisper things to her when he thinks no one is looking,” Sten commented, stroking Barkspawn.  

“Aww, how cute!” Leliana exclaimed.  “Alistair has a crush on Solona.”

“No, I don’t,” Alistair protested.  “I just don’t think it’s appropriate for Zevran to be hitting on her.”

“My, but the boy protests,” Wynne remarked.  “They do spend a lot of time together.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Morrigan scoffed.  “Solona is far too enlightened to let a fool such as him into her bed.”

“Now, hold on, I’m not a fool,” Alistair defended. “I am a catch, and Solona knows that.”

“Does she? How interesting,” Leliana squealed, her attention turning to me.  I hated them. I hated all of them. I waved my staff, freezing the fire into a solid block of ice.

“Oh, look at that,” I remarked, my voice flat and barely hiding anger.  “The fire’s gone out. I’ll get more wood.”

Everyone stared at me as I rose.  It was a rather dramatic effect, but I needed them to shut up, and my first instinct had been to freeze  _ them _ in a block of ice.  I stalked off into the pine trees until I couldn’t see or hear them anymore, then found a felled tree trunk to perch on.

When Wynne found me, I was building a small house out of ice blocks.  I saw her coming, and thought about closing off the wall, blocking her approach, but she looked more concerned than anything, so I simply ignored her presence.

“Building a home out here?” Wynne asked.  I didn’t respond, and she kept talking. “I’ve heard that there are some Avvar tribes in the far south that routinely build their homes from ice.  They say, if you go far enough, the snow never melts, even at the height of Solace.”

“Fascinating,” I said, unenthused.

“There are many things I wish I could have seen,” she continued.  “But alas, my life did not grant me that freedom.”

“You mean the Chantry,” I corrected.  “The Chantry didn’t give you that freedom.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded.  “But if not for the Circle, I would never have learned the many things I have.  I came from nothing, and the Circle gave me purpose and knowledge, and the Chantry gave me the love of the Maker.  I do not resent the Chantry or the Circle for the things I cannot do, for without them, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

“How blessed your life has been,” I replied bitterly.  “Not all mages have lived such enchanted lives.”

“You are referring to the situation with the Templar at the Circle?” she questioned.  I lowered the block I had been shaping and gave her my full attention.

“What do you know of that?” I asked, trepidation at her answer.  What rumors had there been that would have reached her ears?

“Irving was… concerned about the man’s interest in you,” she explained.  “Especially when it became clear to us you did not return it.”

“And yet, no one did anything,” I snapped.  “Except Duncan, when he conscripted me.”

“It was not for lack of trying,” she assured me.  “But removing a Templar from overseeing a mage is no easy task even with abundant evidence.  If you had not left with Duncan, we were considering moving you to another Circle, or granting you a position outside the Circle altogether.  There is a researcher near Amaranthine who could have used an assistant. We were not entirely helpless.” 

I sighed and sat down again.  I thought I had left this baggage behind me, and yet it followed me still.  Would I never be able to leave it in the past?

“I did not come here to bring up unpleasantness,” Wynne apologized.  “I came because I thought you could use council.”

“I could use peace and quiet,” I argued.  “And companions who were not quite so nosy.”

“That is the trouble with friends,” Wynne said.  “They don’t know how not to meddle.”

“Are they all my friends?” I asked.  “Even Sten?”

“For a Qunari, he has been remarkably stoic in the face of magic, which you toss around so casually, like it is an extension of your hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“The other day, he was trying to buff out a scratch on his breastplate, and you walked over, waved your staff, and used magic to repair it.  It was no great thing to you, just a simple repair, but he stared after you for a while, rooted to the ground, trying to keep his composure. The Qun is even more wary of magic than the Chantry, and Sten has had to grow accustomed to its continuous use by you.”

“I’m not careless with it,” I argued.

“No, quite the contrary,” she agreed.  “For you to use it as you do, with a kind of effortlessness and instinct that cannot be taught, you must have the utmost control over your gift.”

I thought of the times I had used it accidentally and realized those moments were exclusively with Alistair, when I felt the most out of control.

“Control is one of your defining features,” she continued.  “You control yourself, your magic, your movements, your emotions, so tightly.  So when you start to experience something you cannot control, like romantic feelings, for example, your control in other aspects starts to slip.  Such as with your temper.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.  Did she know about Alistair and I? Or did she only suspect?  Or did she suspect I had feelings for someone else, such as Leliana or Zevran?

“I’m not such an old woman that I don’t remember what it felt like to be in love,” she insisted, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.  “I, too, once sought the comfort of another.”

“Really?” I asked.  I could not imagine her in love.

“I was very young when I completed my Harrowing,” she explained.  “Everyone had high hopes for me and treated me with respect. None more so than a young Templar with whom I was acquainted.  He was very different from the one you were plagued with. He always kept his distance. But I was full of zeal and passion, and I was young enough that I did not think I would ever have to deal with the consequences of my actions.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“What often happens when a man and a woman fall in love,” she answered coyly.  “I thought we could carry on in secret forever, but when I became pregnant, the secret could no longer be contained.  My love was moved to another station, and when my son was born, he, too, was taken from me.”

“Do you know what happened to him?” I asked.  I knew that the children of mages lawfully belonged to the Chantry, but I had never known someone who had suffered under that rule.

“Of course,” she said.  “I make sure to keep informed of his progress.  He’s a very talented mage, himself. I think of him often.”

“Grey Wardens can’t bear children,” I told her.  “Or at least, it’s very difficult. I’m in little danger of becoming pregnant.”

“Just because you are unlikely to conceive doesn’t mean that your relationship with Alistair is a good idea.”

All hope I had that she was ignorant was dashed.  If she knew, did the whole camp know?

“I know that our future is uncertain, but why shouldn’t we try to find happiness while we can?” I pressed her.  Just because her love affair had ended terribly didn’t mean mine would. I no longer had the Circle or the Chantry to shackle me.

“There is great potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you,” Wynne cautioned.  “You are both Gray Wardens, and he, the son of a king. You have responsibilities that supercede personal desires.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, annoyed.  “Gray Wardens aren’t Circle mages. They live by different rules.  Love isn’t prohibited.”

“Love is ultimately selfish,” she argued.  “It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one’s heart and mind, to the exclusion of all else.”

“That’s not fair,” I protested.  “I am capable of doing my duty as a Gray Warden and loving Alistair.  In fact, my love of him strengthens our bonds as Wardens. We are more in tune than we have ever been.  In battle, we move as one.”

“A Gray Warden cannot be selfish,” she reiterated.  “You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what will you do?”

“You ask me to make that choice now, when it may never be something I have to face.  I won’t end my relationship with him today just because someday, sometime it might end anyway.  What’s the point of doing anything, if that’s how you view it? Why end this Blight if someday there will be another?  Why approach the dwarves if they might turn us down? Why find the Sacred Ashes if Arl Eamon might die anyway?”

I had become petulant, and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.  She wanted me to miserably march toward doom, with complete focus on the mission.  But why was the world worth saving if I could not find love within it?

“You are too young to understand the consequences of your liason,” she said condescendingly.  That only infuriated me more. 

“But I’m not too young to end the Blight?” I hissed back.  “I’m too young to make my own decisions about who I can and can’t have relationships with, but I’m not too young to lead us all into battle, right?”

“I see you will not listen to reason,” she remarked, turning to leave.

“It is not reason,” I spat.  “It is the same line of propaganda the Chantry and the Circle shoved down your throat to keep you from fighting back.  You may have been brainwashed by it, but I won’t be.”

She turned to look at me one last time, her face a mask of disappointment.  Then she left me to my own devices.

I didn’t want to go back to the camp and face her, but I knew that continuing to hide in the woods was childish.  It was an unfounded fear, anyway. She was already in her tent, as was everyone else, save Sten and Barkspawn, who lounged by the roaring campfire.  Morrigan must have brought it back to life. I went to Alistair’s tent and entered, refusing to look at Sten to see if he noticed or cared.

“You were gone a long time,” Alistair said as I crawled under the blankets beside him.  “I was afraid you were done with me.”

“You? Not anytime soon,” I reassured him.  “I just had a lot to think about.”

“Like how to proceed now that everyone knows about us?” he asked.

“Everyone?”

“Everyone,” he confirmed.  “Zevran tried to give me more love-making advice, but that just sparked an argument with Leliana.  Morrigan has a new appreciation for me, though. She said, and I quote, ‘you must be quite talented, for it is certainly not your intelligence that has wooed her.’”

His impersonation of her was ridiculous, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Wynne disapproves,” I told him.

“Well, the old always envy the young,” he replied, stroking my arm. “But someone once told me that we don’t need to live up to the expectations of others.  We only need to live up to our own expectations.”

I smiled at him, and kissed him.  That night we made love for the second time, this time with less hurry and less intensity.  We had no reason to hide, anymore, and I would take my time with him, for as long as I could.


	16. Just a Pinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and her companions finally find Andraste's ashes and begin the return to Redcliffe two more in number. Along the way, Solona begins to doubt her future with Alistair.

Orzammar was a mess.  A succession crisis almost kept us out of the ancient Thaig, and somehow, somehow, I became the deciding factor.  Me. Not a dwarf. A mage, and a human, and I chose the Dwarven king. I didn’t even completely understand Dwarven politics, and I mostly just chose at random.  Harrowmont seemed a fine choice, but what did I know? If I chose poorly, they had only themselves to blame for giving such power to an outsider. But, I had their troops, which was all that mattered.

Along the way, we found the Anvil of the Void, destroyed it, along with its ability to turn living beings into soulless stone soldiers, and picked up a new companion.  Oghren was drunk almost 100% of the time, and his ex-wife had done so much damage to his head, he was barely able to function in mixed company. Every time I started to feel sorry for him and all his self-loathing, he would make some inappropriate comment or another that would banish such thoughts from my mind.  He was vulgar and lewd, not the way that Zevran was lewd, that endeared him to me, but the kind of lewdness that made me want to walk around in massive armor to hide my body from him. Of all of us, Sten was the first to put Oghren in his place, picking the dwarf up by the braids of his beard, looking him level in the eyes, and telling him to keep his comments to himself.  The stout redhead was silent for a full day after that.

We traveled south from Orzammar, looking for the town of Haven.  It wasn’t on any map, so we often had to stop and talk to villagers and travelers.  Eventually, we wandered into the town of Honnleath and found our own stone golem. This one, unlike the ones at we found with Carindin, was fully in possession of her own faculties, once we were able to free her from her position, after having tracked down a control rod and obtaining the passphrase from a townsman who’s daughter we first had to free from demonic influence in the form of a cat. 

Shale was the opposite of Oghren.  I found her dry wit refreshing and was amused that I was the only one she seemed to favor. Alistair teased her a bit about it, but only after she had first teased him about being unworthy of me.

Alistair and I spent every night together.  We often made love, to the chagrin or annoyance of our companions, but Alistair didn’t seem to mind them overhearing us, so I tried not to let it bother me either.  On nights we were too tired, we simply fell asleep wrapped in each other’s warmth.

Eventually, we found Haven.  The challenge there was even more arduous than at Orzammar.  The village was infested with a dragon cult called the Disciples of Andraste who believed that the dragon making her nest above their village was the risen form of Andraste.  We found Brother Genitivi, but we also found dragon eggs, fanatic zealots, and one father Kolgrim who entreated us to desecrate the Urn. When I turned him down, he proved hard to subdue.  

The dragon herself did not prove to be troublesome.  She perched high above the passage to the Urn, and as long as we did not draw attention to ourselves, she was content to let us pass unmolested.  The real trial was the temple itself. Guarded by the spirit of an ancient warrior, we had to prove our worthiness in order to approach the ashes.  

It started with an admission of regret from both Alistair and me, him for leaving Duncan, me for abandoning Jowan in the dungeon of Redcliffe.  I can only assume he would have done the same for Shale and Barkspawn, had they not been such unusual pilgrims. Then there were riddles to solve, puzzles to figure out, spirit versions of ourselves to fight.  Finally, I crossed through a fire wearing nothing but my true intentions and was deemed worthy.

Once I had the ashes for Arl Eamon, I wanted to move on from Haven as quickly as possible.  We escorted Genitivi to the nearest Chantry and left him to make the announcement that the Urn had been discovered.  But we had more important things to do and pressed on to Redcliffe.

The night before we reached Lake Calenhad, I tossed and turned instead of sleeping, until Alistair took me in his arms to quiet me.

“You are more agitated than I have ever seen you,” he said.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” I lied.  “I’m just eager to see Arl Eamon restored so we can deal with Loghain and face the darkspawn.”

“I want that just as much, but I’m not lying awake at night fretting over it,” he said.  “I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Let’s say everything goes according to plan,” I started. “The ashes cure Eamon.  He rises, healthy and mad as hell at Loghain. He’s on our side to take him down.”

“Sounds good so far,” Alistair remarked.

“But what happens then?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, does Arl Eamon challenge Loghain for the throne with you as a backer, or do you make the challenge with his backing?  And let’s say you win the challenge, become king. Then what? What happens to us? Would Ferelden accept a mage as a queen? That assumes we’ll get married.  But if we don’t, then I’m just the king’s mistress. And you would have to marry someone, eventually, just in order to produce an heir. And then what happens to Anora?  She’s not going to just relinquish her crown, will she? What if she wants to marry you, for the stability of the country? What if we lose our bid against Loghain? Will we be executed immediately, and if we survive, how do we continue to fight the Blight?  Do we just wander around looking for darkspawn to kill, or do we flee to Orlais to find more senior Wardens? And if-”

“Slow down, slow down,” he interrupted. “There are a million things that haven’t been determined yet. You’ll drive yourself insane worrying about them prematurely.”

“I need to be prepared for every outcome,” I protest. “I need to make contingency plans.  Now, before it’s too late.”

“Look, things are going to happen that we don’t expect.  You’ll never be able to prepare for everything,” he countered.  “Just worry about what’s in your control.”

I took a deep breath, trying to relieve the tension.  It still felt like there were stones sitting on my chest, each one a different problem that I couldn’t deal with.  Alistair kissed my cheek.

“Alright, let’s just start with one problem.  Just one,” he offered.

“Do you think you’ll become king?” I asked immediately.  It was one of the biggest things on my mind. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed.  “A few months ago, I would have rejected the idea outright, but… After Denerim, after what you said about blood and water and making my own decisions, I’m not so certain.  I think I could be. I’d need a lot of support and help, and I’d need most of the Banns behind me, which they’re not yet. But… I have a stronger claim than either Arl Eamon or Anora.”

“You would make a good king,” I said.  “You have a kind heart and a strong sense of justice.  You listen when people are hurting.”

“It takes more than that, though,” he admitted.  “It takes a political savvy that I just don’t have. I’d insult twelve people a day by just not greeting them by their proper titles.”

We both laughed, and I felt a little better, but not entirely.

“What about…” I trailed off, hesitant to bring it up. This was the thing that was weighing heaviest on my mind.  “If you do become king, you’ll need to marry.”

“Well, I’m not marrying Anora, that’s for sure,” he laughed.  “I don’t know where you got that absurd idea. I don’t care if it would bring stability.  I’d rather marry a darkspawn than my half-brother’s widow, who is also Loghain’s daughter.”

“But you would need to marry,” I persisted.  He sighed, and buried his face between my breasts, groaning in frustration.

“I’m only twenty,” he exclaimed.  “I’m too young to worry about things like marriage. Marriage is for people who want to stay home with babies all day.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” I said dryly, rolling away from him.

“Oh, now, I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured me.  “I don’t mean that I would never marry you. Just that I’m too young to be making that decision now.”

I wasn’t sure why I wouldn’t drop it.  He was right; he was too young to be worrying about this.  So was I. We had known each other less than a year, and been in love for only a few months.  Marriage was too soon to discuss, and yet…

“I just want to know if this is a long term thing, or just a bit of youthful fun,” I finally said, before Wynne’s words came tumbling out of my mouth.  “We both have responsibilities that complicate our relationship, one of them being your royal lineage. We might have no choice but to separate. And that’s fine, if that’s what you want.  But I want to know sooner rather than later, so I’ve got time to temper my feelings.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, sitting up.  “Do you want an empty relationship because we might end up heartbroken in the future?”

“No,” I cried. “I don’t want to end up heartbroken at all.  I want you to promise me forever, that come what may, we’ll find a way to stay together, damn everyone else.”

He was silent for a long time.  He didn’t look at me, but stared at the walls of the tent, deep in thought.  Finally, he spoke.

“I love you,” he began.  “I don’t think that will change.  But we can’t plan our future together when there is the real possibility that forces beyond our control will force us apart.  Maybe that’s me being king. Maybe that’s the Blight. Maybe it’s something else that we can’t see coming. I can’t promise you forever.  I can only promise you right now. If that’s not enough, I understand.”

It wasn’t.  Not really. But I couldn’t walk away from him.  I loved him too much. Eventually, if our relationship had to end, I knew I wouldn’t go quietly.  I wouldn’t make it easy for whoever or whatever separated us, not even if it was Alistair himself. But for now, I could still hold him, kiss him, tell him how much he meant to me.

“It’s enough for now,” I said, and I pulled him down to kiss me.  I deepened the kiss, and he responded in kind, reaching for the hem of my shift.  That night, when he moved within me, I clung to him like it would be the last time.  I promised myself I would always treat it as if it were our last, because I never knew when it would be.

The next day, we reached Redcliffe castle.  Teagan and Isolde greeted us eagerly and quickly put the ashes to good use.  They seemed to work immediately, but it would take a few days for Eamon’s full strength to return.  While we waited, I visited Jowan in the dungeon.

“You have come back,” he greeted me happily.  “You look changed.”

“It has been four, almost five months since you saw me,” I pointed out.  “Are they treating you well?”

“As well as can be expected,” he admitted.  “They keep me fed, and allow me to keep myself clean.  It’s lonely, but that’s my only complaint. I just wish I knew what the future held.”

“That makes two of us,” I commiserated.  “Did you ever come across any spells that would let someone see the future?  That would come in handy about now.”

“No, only warnings,” he answered.  “They say that seeing the future often leads one to take action to thwart it, but that only solidifies the outcome.  But maybe that was just the Chantry’s way of trying to keep it out of our hands.”

“What would you want your future to look like?” I asked him.

“Ideally, I’d be free, and I wouldn’t have to hide,” he said. “And I’d be happy and in love, with a few children to bounce on my knee. But I know that’ll never happen. I guess, my best hope is that I’m given back to the Circle and made Tranquil.”

“You’d wish for Tranquility?” I gasped.

“It seems better than death,” he shrugged.  “And if I were Tranquil, I’d still be able to help people.  Besides, I did terrible things. I need to atone for them.”

“I can talk to Eamon, once he fully recovers,” I offer. 

“I would appreciate that,” Jowan thanked me.  “What about you? What would you have your future look like?”

I didn’t know how to answer.  Did I want to be queen next to Alistair as king?  Did I want us both to stay Gray Wardens? Did I want us to run away to Rivain and live like the pirate, Isabela?  I couldn’t tell, but I knew one thing.

“I want to be with Alistair,” I told him.  

“That blonde guy? The one who looks like a Templar?” he questioned. I laughed.

“Yes, that one,” I confirmed.  “We fell in love. Now, I’d do anything to stay with him, even though there are so many things that could get in our way.”

“Well, don’t try blood magic,” he warned. “It always ends badly.”

“I won’t,” I agree.

“If there’s one thing I would change about the past, it would be that,” he confessed.  “Not because blood magic is evil or anything, I don’t believe that. But because it caused Lily to lose faith in me.  Even if I could find my way to her now, she’d never have me. I made a choice, and I knew it was the wrong one, and now I have to live with the knowledge that I am the one who ruined us, more than anyone else.”

I considered what he said. It was one thing to be torn from Alistair by circumstance, but to cause it myself would be untenable.  I wouldn’t make that same mistake. Alistair wanted me to be patient, so I would be.

When Arl Eamon woke, we planned our course of action.  As I had expected, Eamon insisted that Alistair challenge Loghain for the crown.  He protested, although I suspected it had far more to do with the way Eamon seemed to decide for him, and less with a reluctance for the throne.  With the alliance of Dalish, Dwarves, and Mages, we already had a strong cause, and all that was left to do was call for a Landsmeet. We would have a month between now and then.  Hopefully, that would be enough time to finish swaying enough banns to our side.

When everyone else had left to pack for the journey to Denerim, I pulled the Arl aside.

“I’d like to talk to you about Jowan,” I said.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about how to deal with him,” Eamon admitted, shaking his head.  “He’s caused my family so much hurt, but he also saved Connor.”

“He’s been my friend since childhood,” I explained.  “I know he’s made terrible decisions, but at heart, he’s a good man who found himself in a situation he didn’t know how to handle.  Please have mercy on him.”

“Mercy?” Eamon asked. “It is hard for me to see the merciful path.  What would you have me do?”

I thought about what Jowan had said.  He wanted to atone, and I wanted to help him.  Finally, I said, “Give him to the Circle. They will make him Tranquil, and he will never use magic to hurt another person.”

Eamon thought for a moment, but he agreed in the end.  Still, had I done the right thing? I would never see my friend again, not as he truly was.  Not as himself. I hoped that the choices I had to make in the future would not be so muddled.


	17. Necessary Misdeeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona returns to Denerim, but things do not go as planned.

The journey to Denerim was much quicker in the caravan. Bandits and darkspawn alike were far less likely to attack a well armed contingent, and the whole operation ran much more efficiently than the collection of misfits we had been the last time we traveled the South Road. It also helped that we didn’t have to detour into the Bracillian Forests.  

Arl Eamon’s city estate was situated in the heart of the Market District, not the Palace District as I had anticipated. In fact, it sat just off the market itself, and I had probably passed it a half-dozen times when I was last in the city. It was a fine estate, large enough to accomodate us all, and well stocked in provisions. Unfortunately, it also had unwanted guests.

Loghain, his lackey Rendon Howe, and the head of his guard, a woman called Cauthrien, greeted our arrival. Eamon handled the confrontation well, I thought, but Loghain clearly had practice in slinging accusations and twisting one’s words. Everything he said felt slimy and suspect. Only a fool would listen to him talk and believe that he was not making a grab for power. His obsession with Orlais was obvious as well, and it made him seem unhinged. Of course, I was already biased against him. Perhaps others found his fears reasonable, particularly if they remembered the Orlesian occupation.

When he had left, we set about making ourselves at home. We still had two weeks before the Landsmeet itself, so this estate would be our home base. It would be the longest I had camped in one place since leaving the Circle, and I would have a bed to sleep in nightly. It wouldn’t, however, be Alistair’s bed.

“We’re not sharing accomodations?” I protested when I discovered.

“Ah, no,” he admitted. “I tried, but Eamon thinks it might cause scandal. It’s one thing for a future king to be involved with someone, and another thing to be… what was the term he used? Shacked up? He says it would make the banns feel like they were also choosing a queen, and being a mage and a commoner, you’re not as easy to palate as myself, I guess.”

“I don’t like it,” I complain, crossing my arms. I knew I was being childish, and that Eamon was right, on all fronts, but it felt like Alistair was already being taken from me. He wrapped his arms around me in comfort, kissing my nose.

“I’ll just be down the hall,” he assured me. “You can stop in any time you like, for whatever reason. To talk, to read, to...you know.”

He grinned a little, letting his hands slide down my back and grip the flesh of my butt, pulling me close to him. I sighed as his lips found my neck, and he kissed his way up to my mouth. He was still mine, and I claimed his mouth, taking a firm hold on the collar of his shirt, not letting go. He walked me backwards until we were close enough for him to close the door with one hand. Then he pinned me to it.

With one hand, he gathered the skirts of my robes and hiked them up to my hips, while the other hand ran over my shoulder and down my front, grasping and massaging my breast. I grabbed my skirts from him, holding them out of his way, and he picked me up, hooking my legs around his hips. His hands groped me, finding their way under my clothes, running along my thighs, caressing the flesh of my buttocks.

My hands were far less patient, and they quickly found the ties of his trousers, undoing them and freeing his member. It was already at attention, but I teased it a bit more, caressing it several times. He groaned into my mouth, and I couldn’t help but smile. Then I guided him to my entrance and let him thrust inside me.

Our love-making against that door was furious and raw. There was no gentleness or control in the way he moved against me, his hips slamming into mine again and again. My back, I was sure, would be bruised slightly, but the pain of it intensified the pleasure I felt. I so often felt out of control around him; it was a thrill to see such lack of control in his own actions. Every thrust proved to me how much he still wanted me. Every kiss comforted by uncertainties.

A knock at the door interrupted us. He didn’t stop, exactly, but he did slow down, the sheen of sweat on his brow coalescing into drops that slid down his temple.

“What?” he growled at the door.

“I’m sorry to intrude, Lord Gray Warden,” came the small voice of one of the elven maids. “The arl is requesting that you join him in your study.”

“The arl will have to wait,” he shouted, trying to ignore the way I nibbled at his neck, urging him to keep going.  

“He said it was urgent,” she responded. “I’m to fetch the other Gray Warden, too. Only I can’t find her.”

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair cursed, halting his thrusts altogether. I let my head fall back against the door. If it was something that required the attention of both of us, then it must have been important. We couldn’t let it go unattended.

“Fine, I’m coming. And I’ll find Solona, as well,” he finally called through the door. Very slowly, he pulled out of me, the frustration evident on his face mirroring my own feelings. He set me back on the ground, and I dropped my skirts, letting them fall back into place. He leaned his forehead against me. “We will finish this tonight, I promise. I’ll spend all night proving my devotion.”

“I know,” I assured him, smiling and kissing his cheek. He was disappointed enough. I didn’t need to make it worse.

The urgent matter turned out to be another elf, this one the personal attendant of Queen Anora. She claimed Anora had been imprisoned by Arl Howe, who was plotting to kill her and pin her death on Arl Eamon and us. She had come here for help, believing that, if nothing else, we would save her just to protect our own reputations. I didn’t like it. It felt like a set-up. It felt like they were luring us out of Eamon’s estate so they could dispose of us quietly. If we were killed while breaking into the Arl’s estate, no one would question it. But Eamon disagreed, and we formulated a plan. 

Alistair, Zevran, Wynn, and I would go to rescue Anora. We would meet the handmaiden, and she would provide us with uniforms and sneak us into the estate. From there, we had to find Anora, free her, and sneak her back out and across the city without being detected. That was assuming we weren’t immediately captured when we stepped foot inside. I tried to convince Alistair to stay behind, but he wouldn’t hear of it. If I was going, he would too.

Our first obstacle was encountered before we even arrived. A band of Antivan Crows ambushed us in a back alley, determined to reclaim Zevran as their own. To kill or reform, I wasn’t sure, but Zevran had had my back for the past few months, and I had grown to care for him as a friend. I wouldn’t let him go without a fight, and Zevran wasn’t about to let his old friend Taliesin kill me just to save his reputation. Fighting the Crows wasn’t the best use of our energy, especially when we were just about to break into a heavily guarded building, but assassins always fought better when they had time to prepare, laying traps and ambushes. This group truly hadn’t expected Zevran to side with me, and it proved to be their downfall.

Our second obstacle was getting into the place. We found the handmaiden, and she had ensured there would be a diversion at the front gate, but we still had to be entirely silent and unseen while sneaking to the back entrance. Once again, she created a diversion, and the four of us slipped inside.

The Arl of Denerim’s estate was massive and maze like. Dressed as guards, no one looked twice at us, but we backtracked and went into private rooms so often, I began to feel as if Howe’s guards were incompetent. At least we hadn’t been immediately arrested. While we searched I kept an eye out for anything that might look important or official. We found a few shipping manifests that looked promising, but nothing truly helpful.

Finally, we found Anora. She was indeed trapped, locked in a guest room by magic. She called through the door for us to free her, but to do that we needed to find the mage who cast the spell. It was advanced, and nothing I could do would break it.

To find the mage, we needed to find Rendon Howe. Anora directed us down the hall, to the last room on the left, and within it we found Howe’s quarters. He was not present, but I poked around until I found a door that lead down into the dungeons.

“Wait,” Zevran called, beckoning me to an open chest. “I think I have found something.”

“Do you go around breaking into the personal belongings of everyone you meet,” scolded Wynne.

“It’s Rendon Howe, he deserves to have his things stolen,” Alistair countered. “And these papers belong to the Gray Wardens.”

“No doubt they will be useful, no?” Zevran asked, pleased with himself. “A dashing rogue saves the day again.”

I took the papers, and we descended into the belly of the estate.  

Upon entering the dungeons, a guard immediately spotted us, suspicious of our presence. He took a few steps backwards, pulling out his sword as he did so. He never got the chance to use it. Someone’s arm came through the bars of the cell behind him and choked him to death. We kept our distance as the prisoner looted the body for a key, dragged it into the cell, and eventually stepped out into the open wearing the deceased’s uniform.

The prisoner was an attractive man in his late 30’s or early 40’s, although the stress of confinement made him look harrowed and sick. He greeted us with the melodic sounds of an Orlesian accent. He was in the middle of explaining his predicament when he recognized Alistair, and Alistair recognized him.

“He’s one of us,” Alistair told me. “A Warden from Orlais.”

“I’m Riordan,” the man said. “Senior Warden of Jader, but born and bred in Highever and glad to be home.”

He quickly explained the situation with the Orlesian Wardens and how he ended up in Howe’s dungeon, and it didn’t surprise me one bit. Loghain didn’t care about defending the people from the blight, he cared about power, and Howe, always the sadist, clung to his skirts for scraps to torture. That’s what Riordan was to them. A scrap. Alistair and myself were the feast they were waiting for.

We gave him the Gray Warden papers and told him of Arl Eamon’s estate as a safehouse. I doubted his ability to get out of this place unaccosted, especially in this weakened state, but he assured us that all he had needed to escape was our distraction, which we had already given. Technically, he was my superior officer, and I wasn’t to question him, so against my better judgement, I let him leave.

Riordan was not the only prisoner we found. The son of one of Bann Sighard we found strapped to a torture device. In the cells, we found Rexel, a missing soldier, Soris, an elf imprisoned during the riots, and a delirious Templar who gave me a ring and bade me return it to his sister, another bann. Finally, we found the son of the former Arl of Denerim, who had died at Ostagar.  

“I do not trust this man,” Zevran whispered to me. “I have heard the things said about him among the elves here. If I told you, you would let me kill him.”

“We need all the votes we can get,” I whispered back. “After the Landsmeet, if he is to meet an unfortunate end, well, that has nothing to do with us.”

Zevran wasn’t entirely satisfied, but he did not protest any further as I freed the young noble in exchange for his vote in the Landsmeet. Wynn helped guide them to the safety of the outside, and the three of us pressed on.

We found Howe in a room nearby, talking with a mage. I could only assume it was the mage we sought. Zevran slipped into the shadows, almost completely disappearing from view. I noticed him only because I knew he was there. Howe would not notice him at all.

Alistair and I confronted the Arl, allowing him to monologue long enough for Zevran to slip into the room and align himself behind the mage. All it took was a quick jab from his dagger into the mage’s neck, and it was done. Howe, without magic to protect him, was a disappointing opponent. Alistair cut him and his remaining guards down with minimal assistance from me.

Once the dungeons were cleaned out, it was easy to make our way back to Anora and unlock the door that still held her. She emerged wearing a suit of armor, her stiff, ladylike posture making it look utterly ridiculous on her. She was beautiful, though, just as Eamon had said. Her angular face and large blue eyes were enough to entice most men. It was a pity she was not entirely on our side.

We set off for the door, which was only a few feet away. We only made it as far as the hall before Cauthrien showed up with a contingent of soldiers. They were not the poorly trained thugs of Rendon Howe. These were true warriors, and fighting our way through them would be no easy task.

“Warden!” Cauthrien called to me. “I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy.”

How could she have gotten here so quickly? I had killed Howe not fifteen minutes before. I looked back at Anora and her handmaiden suspiciously. I should have left someone with them when I went in search of Howe. Had they sold me out while I did Anora’s dirty work? I turned back to Cauthrien.

“I am here to free Anora, who was held captive,” I said calmly. Cauthrien wasn’t like Howe. She followed Loghain because she thought it was the right and honorable thing to do. If I could reason with her…

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cauthrien scoffed. “The Queen isn’t being held prisoner here or anywhere else. Her father would never allow it.”

“She’s right here,” I said, gesturing back to her. I looked her dead in the eye. If she had betrayed me, she would have to own up to it now. There was no more room for her to play both sides. “Tell her Anora.”

The Queen gazed back at me, her eyes wide and fearful. I wasn’t sure who she was more afraid of, though, me or Cauthrien. It must have been the later, because she finally said, “Ser Cauthrien! Praise the Maker you’re here! This brigand tried to kidnap me!”

That traitorous bitch. I would see her dethroned, one way or another. Cauthrien took it as a sign to attack, and her entire squadron surrounded us. Wynn had not returned after seeing the prisoners out safely, and I was thankful for that, but without her magic, we could not hold them on our own, Alistair was quickly overwhelmed, as was I. Zevran tried to keep fighting, but he was forced to vanish into the shadows just to survive. I watched him disappear before Cauthrien appeared in front of me, raised the hilt of her sword, and struck me unconscious

 


	18. Dogs and Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona and Alistair wake up in prison, but it doesn't take them long to plot their escape.

I awoke cold, with a throbbing headache.  I was laying on something hard and flat, and when I opened my eyes I saw vague shapes in the darkness above me.  

“Oh good, you’re awake,” came Alistair’s voice. “I was starting to worry.”

His face filled my view, and I could help but smile.  He was always a welcome, lovely sight. I reached up and cupped his cheek, and his hand closed over mine, holding it in place.

“Alistair,” I murmured.  “Why am I so cold?”

“They took our clothes,” he explained.  “They said they were afraid some items had been enchanted, but I think they just enjoy humiliating people.  I was afraid they’d put you in a cell with a stranger, but I guess they’re not complete monsters.”

He helped me into a sitting position, and I looked around.  We were in a cell, three walls made from steel bars, adjoined to another cell on each side.  The room beyond was massive and dim, lit only by torches at regular intervals along the stone walls.  This was Fort Drakkon. It was one of the most secure facilities in all of Ferelden. And we were trapped inside.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.  It was remarkable they hadn’t killed him already, called it a botched escape attempt, and gotten rid of his claim to the throne all together.

“I’ve been worse,” he said, shrugging.  “I’ll be better when we get out of here.”

I looked around us.  The other cells were empty, and the guard that watched us kept his distance.  I shakily got to my feet and inspected the door. It was solid, reinforced with Dwarven runes.  I wouldn’t be able to open it.

“You have a plan, right?” Alistair asked.  “You always have a plan.”

“Someone will come for us,” I said.  I had ment it to sound confident, but instead it sounded like a question.  “They wouldn’t leave us, would they?”

“No,” Alistair reassured me.  “If they can get to us, they will.”

There seemed to be a condition that hung in the air after his statement.  I went to him, placing my hands on his shoulders. “If…?”

“If they can get inside,” he finished, his face sad and serious.  He placed his hands on my hips, letting me anchor him as he was anchoring me.  “Fort Drakkon is impenetrable and impervious to attack. They won’t be able to fight their way in.  They’d need to sneak in, and to do that… I’m just not entirely sure they’ll be successful.”

“And if they’re not?” I press.  “We...what? Die here?”

“Likely we’ll be executed,” Alistair said.  He seemed resigned to his fate, his voice quiet and soft.  “I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but I want you to have accurate expectations for what is to come.”

“You mean more than execution?” I asked.  “What, will they torture us? Put us on public trial?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.  “Loghain will use us as an example of what happens to those who stand against him.  If we don’t get out of here, we will die traitor’s deaths.”

“We will get out of here,” I told him.  He hung his head. He didn’t believe me.  

“How can we? We have nothing.  Not even clothes,” he reminded me.  “We could catch sick and die within days, or they could starve us, or we could die during torture.  There are so many ways for this to end poorly for us.”

“It doesn’t matter how many ways it could go wrong,” I told him.  “It only matters that we find one way for it to go right.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” he said.  I kissed him, and we settled on a pile of straw in one corner, huddled together for warmth.  From there, I began collecting information. 

For three days, I watched everything that happened around us.  When I slept, briefly, Alistair watched and reported his observations.  There were three guard shifts, and each change brought food and water, so that the cell doors were only opened with reinforcements present.  The guards were the same each day. A stocky, stoic man in the morning who stood quietly at attention for his whole shift; in the afternoon and evening, a much younger man who felt like the world was about to deliver him to greatness; finally, the man I had chosen as my target overnight, a greasy middle-aged man, who leered at me through the bars, letting his eyes linger on my legs, exposed under my small clothes.

On the second day, my target came in and leaned leaned against the bars of our cell, staring openly at us.  I didn’t look at him, but I did pull the collar of my shift low on my chest, pretending to scratch an itch. Alistair acted as if he couldn’t see the man stare, but I could tell he wanted to hurt the guard.  It didn’t matter. We were going to do what must be done. When the afternoon guard had left him alone with us, he began talking to me.

“I once knew a pretty young thing like you,” he sneered.  “She too got into trouble, came crying for me to help her out.  I, being the kind and generous soul I am, had to say yes. But she wasn’t properly grateful, so I had to get rid of her.”

Inside, I gagged, but I kept my face emotionless.  He was entirely repulsive, but if I let him know it, my whole plan would be ruined.

“See, I got this theory,” he continued.  “Women are like dogs, and you gotta train ‘em and treat ‘em the same way.  When they do something wrong, you punish them, and when they behave, why then they get a few appreciative pats on their hindquarters.  But a dog’s got to be loyal, or there’s no point. Women, too. They need to show their loyalty, their gratitude. If they do, they might be let out of their kennel every once in a while.”

He let me stew in his comments for a while.  I had intended to seduce him, but it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary.  He was openly offering favors for favors. The next day, Alistair and I argued quietly on how to proceed.

“I don’t like it,” he told me for the thirtieth time.  “There’s too many unknowns. What if you can’t take him down on your own?”

“I can, I promise,” I said, showing the ice that spread over my hand again.  Ice was the best option for a magical attack. It was quiet, I could target his voice first, it didn’t leave behind any scents, and it was harder to see coming.  Without my staff, I didn’t know how completely I’d be able to freeze him, but I figured I’d at least be able to immobilize him long enough to take the keys from him and have Alistair finish him off.  I regretted not taking the initiative to learn hand-to-hand combat.

“I don’t like the idea of his hands on you,” Alistair complained again.  “The thought of him touching you, even trying to touch you. It makes me sick.”

“You’ll be able to take out your frustrations on him immediately,” I said.  “He won’t live long enough to enjoy any of it.”

The shift change came and went, and our target had returned to his post, once again openly staring at me. We waited what felt like an hour, and then launched our plan. Alistair laid down on the straw in the corner and pretended to sleep, while I slowly paced by the bars, giving the guard a good view of me.  I even clenched the hem of my shift in my hands, lifting it a bit higher than was necessary, exposing more of my legs. The fool drank it in, unaware of the ways I was manipulating him.

After an appropriate amount of time, I went to the bars and beckoned to the guard.  He sauntered over, a sickening grin on his face. I tried to smile as demurely as I could muster.

“Yesterday, you said that if a dog showed gratitude, it might be let out of its kennel,” I reminded him.  His grin grew. “Does that count for women, too?”

“You want a little time out of your cage, do you?” he sneered.  “And what’ll you give me in return?”

“I just want to warm up a bit,” I said, keeping my voice soft and plaintive.  “I’d be willing to warm you up too. Give you a little company.”

“And what about your boyfriend over there?” he asked, gesturing to Alistair.  He didn’t move from his position, and if I wasn’t well acquainted with his sleeping habits, I would have been fooled, too.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” I said.  The guard chucked menacingly, and took out his keyes.  I had to restrain myself from grabbing at them through the bars.  I backed up a little, and when he opened the door, he gestured me through.

Once he had locked the door again behind me, he turned to me.  His hands immediately began pawing at me, pinching at my soft places through the shift, sneaking his hands under the hem.

“Isn’t there somewhere more comfortable we can go?” I asked.  “I don’t want him to wake up.”

“I don’t care if he does wake up,” the guard growled, his hips rocking against me through his uniform.  “He’s in there and we’re out here. Nothing he can do. Right here is as good a place as any to warm up.”

He forcefully pushed me to the railing, turned me to face it, and pushed down on my lower back until I was bent over.  I tried to fight the panic rising inside me, the instinct to freeze up, and concentrated on calling forth my magic. As he grinded against me, I focused on his feet, letting ice creep over them, holding them in place.  When he pulled up the hem of my shift the fully expose my backside, I pushed the ice upward as well. It shot up his front, and when I heard him make choking noises, I knew it had filled his mouth and throat.

I slipped away from him, turning to look at him.  His eyes were wide and fearful, and his fingers clawed at the solid ice holding open his mouth, but he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t make a sound. I pushed a little harder on the ice, making sure it completely blocked his ability to breathe. And then I watched as he slowly choked to death.

When I was sufficiently sure the guard was dead, and not just unconscious, I released the ice. It would take some time to melt, but in the end it would leave behind no trace.  I was surprised at how effectively I had used it. My magic didn’t come from my staff, but my staff gave me precision, which often intensified any spell I cast. I didn’t need it for this, though.  Perhaps I was not as reliant on it as I thought.

I freed Alistair from his cell, and we embraced.  

“I thought you were going to let me kill him,” Alistair said.

“I got a little over excited,” I shrugged.  He kissed me, hard and quick, on the mouth.

“And that, my love, is why I will never, ever, cross you,” he laughed.

We snuck through the fort until we found our equipment and belongings.  It hadn’t been rifled through, and all was intact. I felt much more confident once I was fully dressed.  After that, we didn’t need to spend as much time sneaking, as we were fully prepared to defend ourselves.  

We had made it halfway out when we heard a commotion ahead of us.  Preparing for the worst, we peeked into the next room and saw chaos as the fort’s soldiers fought off a massive bear and an angry mabari.  Not just any mabari, though. Barkspawn tore through the men and women like they were chew toys. And if the mabari was Barkspawn, then the bear must have been…

“Morrigan,” Alistair guessed.  “I thought she was joking when she said she could turn into a bear.”

Our friends had come to rescue us.  They had been able to infiltrate the fort after all, and had not abandoned us to our fate.  Alistair and I joined them in the frey, and we fought our way to safety.


	19. The Fate of Ferelden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Alistair finally take his place on the throne?

Queen Anora was a lying, two-timing, cunning bitch.  I was starting to think I would never like a blonde woman.  After tossing us to the wolves, she had run back to Arl Eamon as if it  _ hadn’t _ been her plan for Alistair and I to be captured. Perhaps it had been only Alistair she had wanted out of the way, but a move against him was a move against me.

And now she wanted our support at the Landsmeet.  If I promised it to her, she would stand up to her father and publicly support the Gray Wardens.  She had already given us a lead to gather evidence at the alienage. Only trouble was, I didn’t want her on the throne of Ferelden anymore than I wanted Loghain there.  For all her claims that she was an experienced ruler and beloved of the people, she was barely better than her father. In her tenure as the queen, what had she done to make this country better for the people living in it, and not just the nobility?  Had she helped the alienage or the Dalish? Had she made life easier for the Circle mages? Had she made sure the prosperity that came from increased trade trickled down to the poor fools who actually made the goods and worked the lands? Or had she maintained the status quo of the rich living in comfort and everyone else living on the edge?

“I cannot help thinking she may be trouble,” Eamon agreed.  “But we should keep her close, all the same.”

“If we send her back to her father, she might conspire with him against us,” Alistair mused.  “Assuming he didn’t send her here as a spy. If she stays, we’ll be better able to watch her movements, and perhaps even persuade her to give us support regardless of if we back her claim.”

Arl Eamon and I looked at each other, then turned to look at Alistair, impressed.  He was starting to show initiative, offering his own view of the situation, instead of waiting for others to make conclusions and decide a course of action.  

“What?” he said, annoyed, noticing the looks on our faces.  “I do use my brain sometimes. I can think things. I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

“Of course,” Eamon quickly agreed.  “You are correct, we should watch her closely.”

“It is a very pretty face, though,” I told him, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I suppose I should go speak to the queen, then.”

Anora had claimed the very best of the guest quarters, as befit her rank, and was already ordering about the servants to alter it to her liking.  It rubbed me the wrong way, her habit of just assuming everyone would do as she told them. These were not her employees, and this was not her home, yet she treated everything as if it belonged to her.  Including, it seemed, me.

“My father must be stopped,” she began, making herself comfortable on a couch and snapping for wine to be poured. “But once that is done, Ferelden will need a ruler. I will count on your support for the throne.”

It was the custom to wait until the highest ranking member of nobility had offered it before sitting, but I suspected Anora would not grant me a seat until I pledged my support to her claim.  I sat opposite her, without waiting. She didn’t say anything, but I saw a cord in her jaw move as she clenched it.

“Alistair is the one with royal blood,” I reminded her.  “Does that count for nothing?”

“Alistair seems like a fine Gray Warden,” she complimented, smiling plaintively, deceptively.  “But what experience does he have as a leader? Does he have the temperment, skill, or even desire to wear the crown?  I think he could best serve Ferelden where he is. After all, you lead your party, not him, even though you are the junior Warden, are you not?”

“The correct term for a Gray Warden mage is Acolyte,” I corrected her.  I would not give her an inch if I could help it. “Alistair is a competent military leader, and we make decisions together, as a team.  Perhaps that is unusual to you, collaboration over obedience, but it has proved quite effective. Additionally, he has been out among the people, listening to their plights, and he is not afraid to do the right thing, even when it is inconvenient.”

“Truly?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.  “How lucky for him, then, that he does not have the weight of a nation to force his hand in difficult situations.  A ruler must not let sentiment cloud their judgement. Sometimes lives must be sacrificed for the greater good.”

“Who better than a Gray Warden to know about sacrifice?” I commented.  “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.”

“I am well aware of your motto.  But there are other factors to consider,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.  I had won that point.

“Such as?”

“Such as his association with Arl Eamon,” Anora pointed out.  “Some in the nobility see this as Eamon’s grab for power, little better than the Arl offering himself as a candidate.”

“You mean, just like Loghain, then?” I pressed.  “They think Alistair would be a puppet of Arl Eamon just as they think you are a puppet of your father’s”

“I am no one’s puppet,” she snapped, almost losing her composure.  “And that is not the only association Alistair suffers from.”

“You mean his association with the Gray Wardens?  Your majesty, from what I have seen, only you father believes the Wardens are an Orlesian conspiracy for invasion.”

“I mean his association with you,” she said.  That quieted me. I felt like she had slapped me, and recoiled from her.  “You are a Gray Warden, and a mage, and the issue of commoners. His romantic affiliation with you gives everyone pause, and don’t believe that they do not know of it.  No one would choose you as their queen. You are unfit, but unless Alistair marries someone else, or pledges to, that is the stone that weighs down their mind.”

This was exactly the fear I had confessed to Alistair on the road to Redcliffe.  He would need to marry, as king, but he wouldn’t be able to marry me. If he became king, I would lose him.

“I know what a force love is,” Anora said, her voice soft now, attempting to comfort me.  “I did love Cailan, in my own way. If Alistair stays as a Gray Warden, you two can stay together, but if he becomes king, your heart will break as you watch him marry someone else.”

“Someone like you?” I asked.  Alistair had sworn he would never, but she didn’t know that.

“Excuse me?” she sputtered, the naked shock on her face a welcome change from her usually painstakingly arranged mask.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” I asked.  “You would still have power, as queen, so your position would not change.  Alistair would command the military, which he’d be good at. You’d continue the royal line, assuming your could produce an heir for him, and no one could stand against the two of you if you stood united.”

“You would offer your lover to another in marriage?” she challenged, disbelief all over her face.

“I, too, am a Gray Warden,” I reminded her.  “I know the necessity of sacrifice.”

She thought for a moment, drinking her wine, her narrow eyes considering me closely.  I had practiced for this my whole life, emptying myself of emotions, making my face entirely blank.  It was why Leliana would never play Wicked Grace with me. I had no tell.

“How will you convince him?” she finally inquired. 

“Alistair is shrewder than you give him credit for,” I explained.  “It will not be difficult.”

“Never,” Alistair vowed.  “I will never, ever take that woman as my wife.  If that’s what the crown costs, then I’ll stay a Gray Warden.”

“Please, Alistair,” I begged. “Let me finish describing my plan.”

“No, I won’t,” he dug in his heels.  “If it starts with me marrying my half-brother’s widow, I’m not doing it.”

“It doesn’t” I tried to tell him.  “It starts with you just agreeing to do it.”

“Agreeing to do it, doing it, what’s the difference?” he asked.

“The difference is that promises can be broken,” I emphasized.  “Once we have her support at the Landsmeet, once the vote has been cast in our favor, we walk back the deal.”

“So you want us to lie?” he protested. “Who cares about honor and trustworthiness, as long as we have the crown, right?”

“How about her lies?” I asked.  “You know she threw us to Cauthrien because she wanted us out of the way, not because she feared for her life.  She is cunning and ambitious, and once her father has been subdued, she’ll try to take the throne from you, too, even if you do marry.”

“It seems deceptive,” he complained, but the fight had gone out of him.  He sank onto the bed, and I joined him, taking his hand.

“I’ve been talking to Riordan about Gray Warden history,” I said.  “The order was founded on the belief that nothing was as important as defeating darkspawn and killing archdemons.  Not honor, not fidelity, not justice, not honesty. We are Gray Wardens. Our first duty is to end the Blight, and our second duty is to protect against another.”

“You think we can’t end the Blight if Anora is queen,” he confirmed.

“The Blights in the past lasted decades.  Ferelden needs a strong ruler to see her through it, one that is willing to do what must be done, even if it upsets the nobility, even if it weakens Ferelden sovereignty, even if lives and property must be sacrificed.  Anora’s priority will always be her own power. But yours will be ending the Blight and making sure Ferelden survives it. You know what is necessary more than anyone. She cannot be allowed to rule.”

“But why not just tell her that, then?” he reasoned.  “Tell her you want me as king, and not fabricate this charade.”

“She still has power,” I reminded him.  “She can use it to support us or to support her father.  She will give it to whomever she believes will best support her ambitions.  If she gives it to Loghain, it could cost us the Landsmeet.”

“I still don’t like it,” he whined, but I knew he had been persuaded.  I kissed his cheek in thanks.

“There’s one other thing I wanted to discuss with you before the Landsmeet,” I added.  “I’ll need you to take charge in front of the banns.”

“What do you mean, take charge?  I thought you would make the case for the Gray Wardens?” he questioned, his brow furrowing.

“I will,” I agreed.  “But you will need to make the case for you as king.  If you seem reluctant, or if you let me or Eamon do the talking for you, they might perceive you as too weak to be king.  All that work you put in with the banns in the fall will have been for nothing.”

“Right, I need to show I can be king. I can do that.  I just have to be commanding and decisive. Don’t ask, tell, right?” he looked at me for confirmation, but I just started at him blankly.  “Oh, right. That should start now, shouldn’t it?”

I laughed a little, and pulled him in for a proper kiss.  He deepened it happily, caressing my neck, then let go of me.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said, infusing his voice with authority.

“Whatever you wish, your majesty,” I replied, taking the role of obedient subject.  He lifted my chin with one finger, and gazed into my eyes.

“I’ve decided that you’re wearing far too many clothes, and they must be removed immediately,” he commanded, his voice low and husky, the dark of his eyes dilated.  His voice sent a shiver through me, and my core heated up at his edict. I rushed to obey.

The next few days were the happiest we had ever been, waiting for the Landsmeet.  Alistair and Anora avoided each other, so there was no need for him to lie. We spent most of our time outside of the estate, anyway.  There were a dozen loose ends that needed to be tied up, including paying a visit to an old friend of Leliana’s, repaying her for the betrayal Leliana had suffered before joining the Chantry.  We also had to speak to a dozen banns, most whom we had already met, to confirm their support. Because of the things, or rather people, we had discovered in Howe’s dungeon, support was easier to come by.  Word was spreading of Loghain’s misdeeds, as well as of Alistair hand in uncovering them.

Additionally, we investigated the Alienage, following up on Anora’s lead, and discovered a plot to sell elves to Tevinter.  They were using disease as a cover to secret away the victims, and when we caught up to the ring leader, he traded his life and freedom for the papers that proved Loghain not only knew about it, but had sanctioned it.  I didn’t want to let him go, but Zevran sent word to a certain pirate he knew and promised they would never cross the Waking Sea. 

At night, we talked strategy, not just for winning the Landsmeet, but also for moving our now considerable armies into place afterward.  The mages were already close to Redcliffe, and it would take equal time for both the Dwarves and the Dalish to travel there, so that was where we would rally our troops.  From there, we would march toward the darkspawn horde and demolish it. After our strategizing, Alistair and I would take dinner in our rooms, his or mine, and we’d enjoy each other’s company, passionately, fervently, before retiring to separate beds.  We did not talk again of what him being king would mean for our relationship. We knew there was now an expiration date on it, but while we had the time, we were going to make the best of it.

On the day of the Landsmeet, we set out together.  Morrigan remained at the estate with Barkspawn and Shale.  None of them had much interest in the political machinations of a nation, and in Morrigan’s case, her presence as an apostate could hurt our cause.  Sten was interested to see how the bas settled their disputes without the Qun to guide them, while Zevran and Leliana were more interested in the intrigue of it.  Oghren was hoping there would be wine. Only Alistair, Wynn, and myself were citizens of Ferelden, and therefore had a direct stake in the outcome.

We were greeted in the main hall by Cauthrien.  This time, she only had a few soldiers at her back, not a full squadron.  She didn’t look pleased to see us.

“You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born in Ferelden,” she accused us.  “I will not let you pass to desecrate the Landsmeet. You are not worthy.”

“You place so much faith in a man you have seen make dishonorable choices,” I wondered at her.  “The hero Loghain was doesn’t exist anymore. You follow the ghost of him, a ghost that is corrupting the reputation built long ago.”

“He never wanted to do the things he’s done,” she protested.  “His hand was forced, by you and your ilk.”

“Well, which is it Cauthrien?” Alistair asked.  “Is he a hero to be worshipped or has he committed necessary evils?  You can’t have it both ways.”

“Step aside, human,” Sten commanded, stepping forward to crowd her space.  “We will no longer tolerate your diversions. If you will not be moved, I will move you myself.”

Cauthrien shrank back out of instinct.  Sten towered over her, a massive grey-skinned Qunari with a fearsome reputation.  This wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight, and one she was unlikely to win. She stood down, and let us pass.

The Landsmeet was more difficult to win.  Loghain’s slippery way of twisting everything to make himself seem both the hero and the victim served him well, but I still had tools at my disposal.  I exposed his crimes of slavery, poisoning Eamon, and sanctioning Howe’s torture chambers. When he accused me of holding Anora captured, she arrived to speak for herself.  I feared she would turn on us at the last second, but she remained true to her word. She spoke out against her father.

When the vote came, it was not unanimous, but it was overwhelmingly in our favor.  The banns we had done favors for now repaid us, and the Grand Cleric herself denounced Loghain.  It was better than I could have hoped for, but Loghain was not the kind of man to go willingly to his end.

“Traitors,” he shouted, his face red and blotchy with rage.  “Which of you stood against the Orlesians when their troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?”

The chamber grew quiet.  Many of them had fought for Ferelden freedom, and Loghain’s accusations against them did not sit comfortably. 

“None of you deserve a say in what happens here,” he screamed, spittle flying from his foaming mouth.  His madness was apparent. “None of you have spilled blood for this land like I have. How dare you judge me?”

The faces of the gathered nobility were a mixture of pity, shock, and fear.  This was not the Loghain of the past. This was a man unhinged by his own demons, detached from the reality of civilized rule.  Anora had looked away, unwilling to see her father humiliate herself. I made note of which of his soldiers were still loyal to him, fearing he would order them to attack us.  Alistair intervened before he could.

“Call off your men, Loghain,” Alistair commanded.  “Let us settle this honorably.”

Alistair’s face was hard and determined.  He wouldn’t let Loghain’s ravings end in chaos, not in the royal palace.  Loghain met his gaze, drawing his sword.

“Then let us end this,” he agreed, and the rest of the crowd cleared away to give the two warriors space. “A man is made by the quality of his enemies.  Maric once told me that. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel. Let us test the mettle of our would-be king.”

The duel was to be fought according to tradition: Loghain would face Alistair in single combat, which meant neither I nor Wynne could assist him with magic, and if he fell, we could not step in to revive or defend him.  I clutched my staff in my hands, my knuckles going white. If he fell here, it would be my fault. I pushed him into this. But Alistair readied himself without fear or hesitation. He was ready for this.

They were surprisingly well matched.  Both fought with sword and shield, and what Alistair lacked in skill or experience, he made up for in speed and endurance.  Loghain was growing old, and it showed as his swings slowed and his feet remained planted. He poured his energy into forceful, heavy blows that would have killed Alistair on impact, except that Alistair moved too quickly for them to connect.  Most of Alistair’s blows were made on flanking, and he danced around Loghain with the nimble feet of a 20-year-old. Before long, it was clear to everyone who would win this duel.

Loghain raised his sword for a heavy blow, but Alistair slid beneath his arm and struck up, drawing blood from the unprotected armpit.  Loghain stumbled and fell to his knees.

“So, there is some of Maric in you after all,” he panted.  “Good.”

“Forget Maric,” Alistair growled.  “This is for Duncan, Cailan, and everyone you let die because of your selfish ambition.”

I saw his course of action before he took it, but I couldn’t stop him.  I would never reach him in time, and Alistair had a right to make Loghain pay for all the things he had taken from him.  It wasn’t a judicious death, but it was justice. Alistair raised his sword and severed Loghain’s head from his body.

There was a moment of complete silence, save for the sound of blood gushing from Loghain’s neck onto the stone.  Then Anora screamed and collapsed. A number of servants rushed to her and held her as she cried. I did not feel pity for her.  This man was undeserving of her love and had even tried to have her killed, or at least allowed it to happen. Her emotions were either for display, or they were symptoms of her own weakness.

Alistair returned to me, as more servants flooded the chamber to clean up the mess.

“I didn’t ask you first,” he apologized. “I didn’t think, I just did it.”

“Like a king,” I told him, and squeezed his hand.  “You showed them what you are capable of.”

When Anora had composed herself and most of the mess had been cleaned, Arl Eamon took the floor.  

“So it is decided,” Eamon announce.  “Alistair will take his father’s throne.”

Alistair left my side to take his place in the center of the room.  His head was held high, and his back was straight. He looked the very picture of a warrior king.  Anora was furious.

“I will not marry him,” she spat.  “I refuse.”

“I don’t actually need you in order to become king,” Alistair told her.  “And I’m not broken-hearted that you’re rejecting me, either.”

“You can’t be king without me,” she insisted.  “You don’t know how. The nobility will never support you.”

Alistair clenched his jaw, but he did not make whatever sarcastic comment was brewing inside his head.  Instead, he turned to the very nobles she was adamant would not support him.

“I can do this,” he told them. “I may not know politics the way Anora does, but I know what needs to be done.  I can get our armies marching toward the Blight. As for ruling, I believe I will be a competent and fair king, but I will need help.  No man can rule a nation all by himself, and those that try often ruin their country instead. I will need the Bannorn as advisors and governors, and I will not shut out their voices for silent dissent.  I will make the hard decisions when I must, but I will not be a tyrant. Ferelden deserves a leader that that is fair and just, that will uplift the lives of all her citizens, not just the favored few. And most importantly, Ferelden deserves a king that can lead our armies in the fight against the darkspawn.  You will not find a better man than I.”

The banns cheered for Alistair.  It was an impressive speech. I always knew what he was capable of, but seeing him step into this role, fill the shoes left by his father and brother, made my heart constrict.  I was proud of him. Proud to have known him. Proud to have him as my king.

I lowered myself to one knee, and the rest of the nobility followed.


	20. The Battle to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of battle, Solona and Alistair attempt to deal with their fears of the future and struggle with the consequences of their choices.

Alistair was king. Anora was locked up, but until the Blight had been ended, Alistair did not want to risk leaving the country without a back-up ruler. We returned to Arl Eamon’s estate and made immediate preparations to leave for Redcliffe the next day. No more time could be wasted.

Late that night, after most of the place had gone to bed, Alistair came to me.

“We need to talk,” he said, his tone ominous. I knew what he wanted to talk about. It was what I had feared, ever since we found the ashes.

“Do you love me?” I asked him.

“What? Of course,” he exclaimed. “This has nothing to do with how I feel about you. It has to do with duty. I love you, more than I ever thought possible, but I have a duty as the king.”

“A duty to marry, to produce an heir, to carry on the Theirin bloodline,” I finished for him.  

“Yes.”

“And I can’t be that person,” I continued. “Because I’m a mage.”

“What? No! I know that’s what the Chantry says, but I have never cared a lick for their rules,” he proclaimed. “It’s because you’re a Gray Warden, and I am too. And that makes childbearing, child rearing, difficult. Both of us have tainted blood. Both of us will die young.”

“Do you know that?” I pressed him. “Do you know that with certainty, that two Gray Wardens can never bear children?”

Alistair sat next to me on my bed, but he didn’t take me in his arms, like I wanted him to. He didn’t even take my hands. He was leaving me, breaking my heart, and he wouldn’t even comfort me while he was doing it.

“Why now?” I asked him, refusing to cry. Crying was for when he made me happy. I couldn’t let him see how much I was hurting. “Why not wait and see how things play out? You don’t know when you will marry. Why not stay with me until then?”

“I could see it becoming very hard to tear myself away from you,” he admitted. “Impossible even. If this is what must be, then I have to do it now, while I can.”

I said nothing. I wanted it to be impossible for him. I wanted him to stay with me, to love me always, no matter what was to come. If I couldn’t be his queen, then I would gladly be his mistress. But Alistair wasn’t that kind of man, and it wouldn’t be fair to his future wife, to have to share him with another. So I kept my thoughts to myself.

“I will leave you to be alone, now,” he responded to my silence, and he rose from the bed. I caught his hand before he could step away completely.

“You’ll be a good king,” I told him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“But I’d gladly trade all those things for what I really want,” he confessed. He pulled his hand free from me, and left.

The march to Redcliffe was uncomfortably quiet. Even Oghren refrained from making his usual inappropriate quips. I found myself more and more in the company of Morrigan, as she was the only one I did not feel the need to be optimistic around. Her dry insults to most that crossed her path even did a bit to lift my spirits, but I still did my best to avoid Alistair, when I could. When I couldn’t, I treated him with only the most professional of attitudes.  

“If, after the battle, you find yourself in need of a respite from mankind, I know of several retreats in the Kocari Wilds that would suit your purposes,” Morrigan offered on my lowest day. “I could even arrange for the likeness of a certain king to be delivered, so that you may practice any spells that have been neglected in your training. I myself know of one that can castrate a bull from two dozen paces. I’m sure we could adapt it to also work on human males,”

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. Morrigan’s solution was just an extension of the issue that had driven us apart, but she didn’t know that. All she knew was that I was in emotional turmoil, and Alistair had caused it. She was a good friend.

The silence of the party extended to the road itself. Even with a force of this size, it worried me that we had encountered not a single band of darkspawn. When we got close to Lake Calenhad, we discovered why.

The darkspawn horde had made it to Redcliffe. The dwarves were still a day off, and the Dalish rode with us, so the castle and village had been defended by mages alone. The had done their best, but without melee fighters or calvary, they couldn’t hold off the beasts.

We fought our way through the village and to the castle gates, where darkspawn were swarming the front doors. I raised an inferno around me and walked into their midst. The flames felled all but the most hearty, and those that remained, I electrocuted. An ogre charged us, but before it could get close, I froze it solid, and Shale shattered it into a million tiny pieces with a ferocious blow.

Inside the castle, we found Eamon and Riordan, who had left before us, as well as Teagan, Isolde, and the battle mages. Riordan informed us that the attack on Redcliffe was just a diversion, and that the bulk of the hoard was on its way to Denerim, cutting across the plains of the Bannorn, and decimating everything in their wake. The city we had left behind was vulnerable, with the majority of our forces here. To make matters worse, the archdemon had been spotted leading the hoard, and the only ones who could take it down, Alistair, Riordan, and myself, were here in Redcliffe. We made plans to begin a forced march the next morning, once the dwarves had joined us. Hopefully, Denerim could survive the two days it would take us to return. Everyone else made their final preparations.

Before we retired, Riordan met with Alistair and I for what he called “Gray Warden business”. He revealed a secret neither of us had known: the reason why only the three of us could kill the Archdemon. If the dragon were to be slain by anyone else, the soul of it would simply transfer to the nearest darkspawn. Perhaps it would lie dormant for a time, but it would re-emerge in short order. However, because of the taint that we consumed as part of the joining, if we killed it, its soul would enter us, and finding another soul already present, the two would destroy each other. It would kill the Archdemon for good, but it would kill the Warden as well.

“If possible, the final blow should be mine to make,” Riordan explained. “I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer.”

“But if you fail, the deed falls on us,” Alistair concluded.

“Yes,” Riordan confirmed. “The Blight must be ended. It must be one of us.”

Alistair escorted me back to my quarters. Before I could open the door, he caught my hand, pulling me back to him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But please don’t.”

“What do you mean?” I said. In truth, I had only been thinking about what would happen if all three of us fell before we could kill the Archdemon. What happened then?

“If Riordan falls, it doesn’t have to be you,” Alistair reasoned. “I’m king. It’s my duty to protect Ferelden. It should fall to me to make the killing blow.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I countered. “I won’t hold off on my duty as a Gray Warden just so you get to be a hero.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested. He looked down at my hand, rubbing the soft flesh of my knuckles under his calloused thumb. In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, he admitted, “It would kill me to lose you.”

“You’ve already lost me,” I reminded him. “Or given me up, whichever. And at least if I die, Ferelden still has a good king to lead her. If you die, Anora takes the throne. I’ve already made clear why that’s a bad idea.”

“The world is a better place with you alive in it,” Alistair argued. “I’m a better man with you alive. If you die, who's to say I won’t go crazy? Huh? I could become a tyrant.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed, pulling free of him. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at me. “You can’t guilt me into holding back. It won’t work.”

“It was worth a try,” he muttered, his pout fading. His eyes were still full of fear, though.

“You put your duty before your feelings when you set me aside,” I said as gently as I could. “This is no different. You want me to live because you love me, but you should want to live because it is the best thing for your country, and your duty to Ferelden is more important than your love for me.”

“You’re right, of course, you’re right,” he conceded, and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I just didn’t think I’d have to make quite so many sacrifices in a row.”

I reached out and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it, closed his eyes and sighed. I wanted to pull him to me, to take him into my arms and make love to him one last time before we marched to our fates. But if I did that, I risked him making the wrong choice in battle. He had to survive, at all costs. So I bid him goodnight, slipped into my room, and closed the door on him.

Morrigan waited for me on the other side of the door.

“Do not be alarmed. It is only I,” she announced. She stood before my fireplace, watching the dancing embers, turning a length of rope in her hands, making knots. She looked nervous.

“Is everything okay?” I asked her.

“I am well,” she assured me. “It is you who are in danger.”

I didn’t know how, but she knew about the secret Riordan had just told us. I wanted to ask her how she knew, but Morrigan didn’t reveal her own secrets unless she wanted to. It was pointless to ask. Still, she had a plan for us. If I could convince Alistair to bed her, she would perform a ritual that would guarantee slaying the Archdemon would not kill us. Not Riordan, not me, and not him. She went into more detail than was necessary, speaking of a child and the soul of an old god, trying to convince me to trust her with this.

“I know you care for Alistair,” she disclosed. “Even though he has harmed you, and even though he has never been worthy of you. I am telling you that I can save him. Does that not please you?”

“I want to save him,” I admitted. “I had entertained the idea of knocking him out in battle, stowing him in some safe place, and ensuring he wouldn’t be killed or make the killing blow against the darkspawn. I suppose your plan is less deceitful. But…”

“But it would require him to lay with me, and you find that distasteful,” she finished.

“It’s not you,” I reassured her. “It’s the thought of him with anyone. I can’t stand it.”

“I do not think he will entirely enjoy it, if that helps,” she offered. “While the act itself brings pleasure, I am sure he would prefer to be with you, not I.”

“I will talk to him about it,” I told her. “If he comes, then he comes. If he doesn’t…”

    “If he doesn’t, perhaps we can revisit locking him up for the battle,” she said. I smiled at her. She was cold and standoffish, but she had proven herself to me time and time again. And now the life of my love rested in her hands, if only I could convince him.

He let me into his room without question, then leaned casually against one of the posters at the foot of his bed while I wandered around the room, picking up and looking at knicknacks, straightening the wall art.

“Well, I see I’m not the only one who’s too nervous to sleep,” he remarked.

“Morrigan came to see me,” I finally admitted. “Why are you too nervous to sleep?”

“Nope, you don’t get to change the subject,” he scolded. “I’m tired, but I’m not stupid. What did she want?”

How was I supposed to do this? How was I supposed to convince the man I loved, the man who loved me, to have sex with a woman he didn’t even like, all to save his life, and my own? I’d have to just be honest, and hope for the best.

“I need you to have sex with Morrigan,” I said, uncorking a decanter of wine and smelling it.

“Cute,” he laughed. When I didn’t laugh back, his voice grew serious. “This is payback, right? You’re punishing me for leaving you, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” I promised, turning to face him. “I’m trying to save your life. If you do this, then it won’t matter which of us slays the Archdemon, because it won’t destroy either of us, or Riordan.”

“Wow. Be killed by the Archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How does someone make that kind of choice?” He laughed at the absurdity of it, and started to pace the room. I didn’t know what else to say, so I told him the same details Morrigan had told me. He was not happy with them

“I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to impregnate Morrigan in some kind of magical sex rite?!?” he shouted. He wasn’t a man who raised his voice often, but he could bellow when he needed to. I flinched instinctively, turning away from him. He growled in frustration. I kept talking, trying to convince him with the details of the ritual, but everything I said just made him more angry, which made me more nervous. I had never seen him angry like this, not even when facing Loghain.

“Why are you asking me to do this?” he finally demanded. He grabbed me by the arm and forced me to face him. In his eyes, I saw the anger I had expected, but I also saw hurt. “How could you ask me to do this?”

“I don’t see any other way,” I reasoned. “I can’t do it myself, and Riordan has been too damaged by the taint. It can only be you.”

“That’s not good enough,” he hissed. His hands were firm on my arm, not hurting me, but holding me tightly. He wasn’t going to let me go until I gave him a good reason.

“I’m asking you to do this because I love you,” I confessed. “And my greatest fear is that you’ll take the killing blow, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces of the world without you. It’s selfish, I know. It’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever wanted. But I think that if you died, I’d kill myself. I can live without you, if I know you’re safe. But if you die, I’ll die.”

All the anger flooded out of him at once. He closed his eyes and leaned into me, his hands loosening their grip and sliding around to my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close to me. If this worked, we would have to spend the rest of our lives apart. We couldn’t even last a few days without falling back into each other’s arms. But I would rather be forced to figure out how to live apart from him, than ever have to figure out how to live in a world where he didn’t.

“I guess I’ll just have to live with the fact that you have me wrapped around your little finger,” he sighed, pulling back to look at me. “Alright, I’ll do it. Where is she? I want to get this over with.”

I led him to my room, where Morrigan waited, and left them to their ritual. I wandered the halls of the castle, unable to rest, my mind plagued with images of them together. Barkspawn walked with me, his presence my only comfort. Eventually, I found myself back in Alistair’s room. I curled up on his bed, snuggled next to Barkspawn, and fell asleep.

I awoke to Alistair sitting down on the bed at my feet. Barkspawn was snoring away, rolled onto his back, without a care in the world.

“How was it?” I asked, sitting up.

“You want me to spill the details on me having sex with another woman?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me while taking off his boots. “I feel unclean.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, wrapping my arms around my knees. He sighed, and began to undo the buttons of his sweater.

“Please don’t apologize, that just makes me feel more guilty,” he pleaded. “I feel like I cheated on you, even though you’re the one who asked me, and we’re not even together any more.”

“I understand,” I empathized. “I feel like I forced you into it.”

“You didn’t,” he assured me. Now he was standing in just his tunic and small clothes. “I chose to do this. I decided that your life was worth more than any dignity I lost doing it.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” I asked.

“Well, then one of us will probably die. But it’s too late now to second guess our decisions.”

He looked tired. He was standing in his undergarments, in his room, and the only thing blocking him from getting some much needed sleep was me. I rose from the bed.

“Thank you for doing this,” I said, then whistled for Barkspawn. He jumped to his feet, immediately awake, and trotted to the door. “I’ll let you sleep. We’ve got a long march in the morning.”

I made it to the door, opened it, and let Barkspawn out, but I didn’t make it any further. Alistair came up behind me and slammed the door shut. He twirled me around, pressed my back into the door, and kissed me. His mouth tasted salty, and his lips pressed against me eagerly. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back, wrapping my arms around him, and pressing my whole body into his.

It was wrong. He had given me up. He had decided his duty to his people was more important that being with me. But it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like we were meant to be. His lips felt like they were made to fit on my lips, his hands were made to hold me closely, his hips were made to rock against mine. There was no certainty in the future, but there was certainty in this moment. I loved him, and he loved me, and tonight, at least, we could be together, one last time.

“I know I said we couldn’t,” he explained, his mouth kissing down my neck as his hands cupped and grasped and groped my curves. “But I can’t stay away from you tonight. Please don’t ask me to.”

If he wanted me to be the one to pull away, he would be disappointed.  

“Just tonight,” I agreed. “We could still fall in battle. Even if the ritual works, we could still be killed by arrow or sword.”

“Exactly,” he confirmed, pulling at the laces on my dress. When they wouldn’t come loose, he grabbed the hem and pulled the whole thing off over my head. “I could trip on the stairs tomorrow morning.”

“I could fall off my horse and hit my head on a rock,” I pointed out, removing my stays for him. “If I do, I want my last night to be with you.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, pulling off the last of his clothes.  

Once we were both naked, his hands were back on me, trying to touch every place at once, caressing my curves, teasing the sensitive areas. I pushed him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he fell backward. Then I was on top of him, kissing him where I could, touching him where I couldn’t. When we were both ready, him standing at attention, me dripping with desire, I straddled him, bringing the heat of my core down around his member. Like the rest of him, this too had been made to fit me, and I rode him with wild abandon, guiding one of his hands up to cup my breast, the other gripping my hip. It didn’t take me long to climax, my nails digging into him to stabilize me.

When I had finished, he took control. He laid me down on my stomach, a pillow propped under my hips, and entered me from behind. Brushing my hair off my neck, he kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin there, sending shivers down my spine. His hands found their way beneath me, one snaking down to the thicket of hair between my legs and teasing the sensitive bud that hid therein. As his thrusts grew more frenzied, he coaxed me back to the edge, and this time, when I went over, I brought him with me. The moment felt almost like spell-casting, like our orgasms were the centerpoint of magic working to weave our souls together and create some new, powerful energy that eventually settled between my hips.    

Afterward, we both lay spasming, his body a comforting weight on mine. We only moved when it became too cold to stay uncovered. Then, for what I knew was going to be the last time, we fell asleep in each other’s arms

 


	21. The Tower of Triumph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona faces the Archdemon.

Denerim looked half destroyed by the time we reached it.  The darkspawn horde had wreaked massive damage on the city, and it was almost unrecognizable.  Our forces secured the main gate of the city, and then we broke into groups to tackle the rest of the capitol.  Riordan was heading straight for Fort Drakkon, where he intended to lure the Archdemon and defeat it. A contingent needed to be left at the gate, but I and a few companions would cut through the city quickly to engage the darkspawn generals directly, while the bulk of our fighting forces took on the bulk of the horde.  

“Zevran, Shale, Morrigan, you’re with me,” I called.  Both Barkspawn and Alistair complained.

“You need to be here to stay on alert,” I told the mabari.  “No one is as observant as you.”

That seemed to placate the dog, but Alistair would not be so easily mollified.

“We started this together, it’s only fair we should finish it that way,” he complained.

“You should be where your troops can see you,” I argued.  “That is your place, leading them. You’re a king now, remember. Not a Gray Warden.”

“Fine, then as your king, I order you to take me with you,” he demanded.  He wasn’t backing down. I was afraid he’d do something heroic and stupid if he was with me.  Even discounting the Archdemon, there were still a dozen ways he could foolishly try to save me from death. I didn’t want him to go with me.

“Alistair can take my place,” Morrigan offered. “With the bulk of the forces here, two mages should stay at the gate, myself and Wynne. It would be a waste to send two traipsing through the city, when one would suffice.”  
I glared at her, but she only raised an eyebrow.  I had lost the argument.

We fought through the Market District, and then through the Alienage.  The latter hadn’t been completely evacuated, and the elves we had met before were happy to join the fight.  Once darkspawn were cleared out of that area, we erected barriers to protect them from further violence, and continued into the heart of the city.

A screeching roar caught our attention, and we looked up in time to see the Archdemon twisting in the air.  It swooped down quite close to us, destroying the bridge to the alienage, and as it rose, we saw Riordan stuck fast to its wing.  The Archdemon was in clear distress, but one more turn in the air, and we saw it dislodge the Warden. He cut a swath through its wing, and then plunged to his death.

“Riordan’s gone,” Alistair remarked.  “It falls to us, then.”

“Oh, joy,” intoned Shale. “Just what I wanted.  The fate of humanity upon my shoulders.”

“If you think about it,” I told her.  “A dragon is just a very large bird.”

“Then I will crush it,” she promised.

“It looks like it landed on the top of the Fort,” Zevran observed.  “Should we follow?”

“To Fort Drakon,” I commanded.

Fighting our way there was the easy part, but the entrance was heavily guarded.  The Dwarves arrived just in time to clear out the entrance and the first floor. After that, we were back on our own.  We climbed up the tower, one floor at a time, slaughtering all the darkspawn we encountered. After a time, my robes were discolored, stained with the red-black blood of our enemies.  Alistair and Zevran were similarly stained. Even Shale had splashes where the blood clung to her stone skin. 

When we finally burst through to the top of the tower, the Dalish were already there, their ranged fighters raining arrows down on the injured Archdemon. Several times it tried to take off, but with the injury Riordan had given it, it could do no more than hover for a time before setting back down.

Alistair and Shale engaged it directly every time it set down.  Zevran switched from daggers to a bow and joined the ranks of the archers.  I placed myself between the two groups, healing what I could, when I could, but focusing the full strength of my magic on hitting that beast with everything I had.  Each time it landed, I brought an ice storm down upon it, then an inferno, then an earthquake, then a lightning storm. My own companions were shielded from my magic, so I threw the elements at that dragon without caution or restraint.

The dragon did not take its beating without response. Its massive tail made powerful sweeps that Shale and Alistair had to dodge.  Its strange breath attacked the spirits of the archers, and if I wasn’t quick to put up a forcefield around them, we would lose a handful each time.  Its claws could rip holes in ordinary men, and even Shale lost a few pebbles to the beast’s swipes.

When it needed a rest, the Archdemon let out an ear-shattering cry, and waves of darkspawn came to its assistance.  They swarmed the archers, as well as me, and did serious damage. We cut them back as best we could, but as the battle dragged on, I could feel my energy waning.  

I chugged my last bottle of lyrium and prepared for another attack on the Archdemon.  It had flown, sort of, to the other side of the tower, and Shale and Alistair were running to get into place.  Already, Zevran and the archers were aiming and letting loose their arrows. Alistair was ahead of Shale, being much quicker on his feet, but he was focused on his target, the creature’s legs, and didn’t look up.  I saw the dragon turn toward him and knew it was poised to attack.

“Alistair!” I screamed, but he didn’t hear me.  I started running for him, screaming his name. The Archdemon was looking right at him, its neck pulled back.  I watched in horror as it opened its jaws and snapped him up in them.

The Archdemon shook its massive head, causing Alistair’s limbs to snap back and forth.  Then it spit out my beloved onto the stones of the tower roof and turned its attention to Shale.  She slammed her massive stone fist into it, sending it skitting across the tower.

I reached Alistair and found him still alive.  If not for his armor, reinforced with the drake skin we had acquired at Haven, the Archdemon jaws would have snapped him in two.  As it was, he was still gravely injured. His armor plating was dented, in some places pressing painfully into his skin. There were massive, terrible looking slashes on one arm, where his glove and gauntlet had been ripped off.  His worst wound was the contusion on his scalp where his head had crashed into the stone after being flung from the mouth of the dragon. He didn’t respond when I called his name. I pried his eyes open, but they didn’t react, either.  He was still breathing, though, so he couldn’t be dead.

I took out my last health potion.  It was made for internal injuries, so I didn’t know if it would work on his head injury, but it was all I had to give him.  I tipped his head back, pinched his nose, and poured the concoction down his throat. I wasn’t Wynne. I wasn’t a master healer like her.  Small cuts and bruises, sure, I could heal those just fine, but that was the extent of my healing abilities. I was a battle mage, through and through, not a healer, and for the first time in my life I cursed my choice of specialization.  The love of my life was going to die because I had wanted power, and had neglected the healing arts.

I looked around me.  There were only a handful of archers left, including Zevran.  If I fell too, they wouldn’t last much longer. Shale was still pummeling the dragon, but how much damage could she do on her own?  She wasn’t invincible, especially not to such a powerful enemy. She couldn’t fight on her own. I looked down at Alistair, cradled in my arms.

Wynne had once asked me what I would do if I had to choose between my love and my duty.  This was the choice she spoke of. I could quit the battlefield to get Alistair the help he needed to live, or I could stay and support my forces against the greatest threat to humanity.  It was a terrible choice to have to make.

On the one hand, there was no guarantee I could save Alistair.  He was too heavy for me to carry, so if I left him in search of help, he could be crushed under foot or swarmed by darkspawn in my absence.  Even if he was not, there was no guarantee I would find the help I needed. Fort Drakkon was mostly empty, and while there were Dwarves at the entrance, I couldn’t be sure they had a healer among them, or that we would make it back to the top before he expired.

On the other hand, if I stayed, there was a chance we all would die anyway.  Yes, the Archdemon was weakening, but it had not fallen yet. It could easily still wipe out the last of our forces, or call more darkspawn, and I might not be able to stand in its way.  The tempest I had set upon it was dying, and once it did, it would have a clear line to wipe out the remaining archers. I didn’t have anymore lyrium. Once my spell casting was expended, what else was I good for?  I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t pick up a bow and take the place of an archer. Magic was the only thing I was good at.

I looked at Alistair again.  The first time I had met him, I had been wary of him.  I didn’t know him, didn’t know his character. I only knew that he was a former Templar, and I had just left behind the abuses of another Templar. I hadn’t started to trust him until I shared my secrets with him, and he had proved himself a gentleman.  Then, after returning to the Circle, I had started to fall for him. By the time we had reached Denerim, I was in love, and a month later, I knew he was too. Now, after everything that had happened, I had to give him up. Losing him to the crown was hard enough, but I wouldn’t lose him to death.  And I wouldn’t let the Archdemon survive this day.

I sat back on my heels and reached out my hands.  There was residual magic all around me, left over from the spell casters in the battle below, both magi and darkspawn.  I focused on gathering it into me, mixing it with my own power. I used my staff as a conduit, pulling the magic to me like a magnet.  It filled me with an intoxicating power, and I felt my limbs go numb. When I could no longer feel my face, either, I placed on hand on Alistair’s head, and released the magic into him.  I didn’t know if that would work. It wasn’t a proper spell. It was just energy and intention, and all the love I carried within me.

Once it was done, I stood up.  I was light headed and stumbled a bit, but once my vision cleared, I knew what I had to do.  Alistair’s sword lay some feet away, discarded when the Archdemon had snapped him up. I went to it, lifting it into the air.  It was heavier than I had anticipated. It must have been over five pounds. I gripped it with both hands, discarding my staff, and pointed it in front of me.  I was completely drained of magic, but I could still end this. The Archdemon must be killed, or Denerim, and the whole of Ferelden, would be lost. I was still a Gray Warden.  I could still be the one to end it.

I stalked toward the monster.  It had whipped its tail toward Shale and sent the stone giant stumbling back.  She struggled to rise to her feet. She was tiring. If this battle didn’t end soon, she would fall.

“Warden,” Zevran called out.  I looked back at him. He was still firing arrows at the dragon, but he was looking at me, fear on his face.  “Come back, you’re too close.”

I smiled at him, but turned away and kept approaching.  If he was the man I thought he was, he would come after me, but he wouldn’t be able to stop me.  I was too close now. I stood right under the head of the dragon, and all I needed was to get it to come to me.

“Face your fate,” I screamed up at it.  The Archdemon noticed me then, and pulled its neck back to strike.  I wasn’t afraid. I could kill from inside its mouth just as well as from outside.  It descended in what felt like slow motion. I braced the sword against my body, ready to plunge it through the roof of its mouth and into whatever passed for its brain.  I watched as the massive teeth came closer, thick ropes of demonic spit hanging off them like perverted garlands. I was ready.

At the last instant, a single arrow flew through the air, embedding itself in one of the Archdemon’s eyes.  Its head swung to the side, narrowly missing me, its jaws snapping around thin air. I wasted no time. Using the arrow as a handhold, I pulled myself onto the dragon’s head.  It reared back, lifting me high into the air, but I kept my footing, miraculously. Just when it was about to shake me off, I plunged the sword down into its eye socket, angling it toward the center.  The Archdemon screamed, worse than it did when Riordan had ripped its wing, and then let its head plummet to the ground. When the skull hit the roof of the tower, it bounced, and I bounced off of it. I scrambled to my feet as quickly as I could, ignoring the pains in my legs, hips, and back.  I wrenched the sword out and plunged it in a second time, pushing my full weight against it. The dragon screamed again, but it was half-hearted this time, knelling out its own death. It shuddered, and lay still.

It was dead.  The monstrous creature that had so drastically changed the course of my life lay motionless at my feet.  It had taken from me the man that I loved, and I had taken from it its life. I had ended the Blight. I grasped Alistair’s sword, and had begun to pull it out, when the head erupted in a blazing white light.  The light consumed me, wrapping my body in its crushing heat, until I died.

 

Sometime later, I became aware of my surroundings again.  I felt like I was floating, like I had no body, and felt nothing.  I was not hot, nor cold. I felt no pain or pleasure. I was not hungry or thirsty or tired or energetic.  I simply existed. Perhaps this was the Fade, and I had found my own pocket of nothingness to exist in for the remainder of eternity.  Then I heard voices.

“Last thing I said to her was that I was going to put her in a ball gown for the coronation, and then poof, next thing I know, she’s gone.”

“It doesn’t surprise me at all.  That girl was always a bit odd, and I never trusted her.  I’m surprised she stayed with us as long as she did.”

“I think she and Solona were close.  Perhaps because they were young female mages.  I often was a little jealous of their friendship.”

“I’m sure the Warden considers you a close friend, too, dear.”

“Perhaps, but not like Morrigan.  I am older than her, more experienced, but there are some things I think Morrigan was better able to relate to her with.  Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Morrigan is gone, and the Warden still sleeps.”

I opened my eyes.  Above me I saw a wooden ceiling.  It didn’t look like the Fade. It looked like an ordinary room, in the ordinary world.

“What do you mean, Morrigan is gone?” I asked.  I couldn’t quite remember the names of the voices who spoke, but I was sure I knew them.

“Thank the Maker, you’re awake!” exclaimed a red-headed woman. “We have been so worried about you.”

“It was a bit touch and go there,” said a much older woman.

As their faces floated into my view, I remembered their names.  Leliana. Wynne. They were my friends, my companions. They had survived the battle of Denerim.

“What do you mean, Morrigan is gone?” I asked again, more forcefully this time.

“She disappeared,” Leliana explained.  “Right after the battle. The darkspawn stopped fighting and fled, and then we were all talking about how you and Alistair must have succeeded, and then she was gone.  No one has seen her since.”

“How long has it been?” I asked, struggling to sit up.  Wynne rushed to help me, tucking a few extra pillows behind my back.  Now I started to feel the pain and the exhaustion.

“It’s been over a week, I think,” Leliana said, looking to Wynne for confirmation.

“Nine days since the Archdemon was defeated,” the older mage clarified.  “By you, I might add. They’re already calling you the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I wrote a song,” Leliana exclaimed.  “I figured, I was there for much of it, who better than me?  Everyone in Thedas is going to be singing it by Harvestmere.”

Nine days was a long time to be asleep.  I wondered what I had missed.

“How is… everyone?” I inquired.  I wanted to ask after one person in particular, one person who’s life or death was so much more uncertain, but I was afraid of what the answer would be.

“Oghren got Sten drunk, for the first time in his life, I believe,” Leliana gossiped.  “He came in yesterday saying he was dying.”

“I had to explain to him what a hangover was,” Wynne disclosed.  “I don’t think he’ll be trusting that dwarf again anytime soon. Anyway, Zevran is fine. He had a stress fracture on his hand from the bow, but that didn’t take too long to heal.”

“I wish you hadn’t used magic to heal it,” Leliana complained.  “He’s been hitting on everyone left and right saying that he has magic hands.  He even hit on Bann Teagan!”

“Shale is alright, too,” Wynn continued.  “She was very tired, though, so we found her a nice garden to sit quietly in, with no children, and we put a small forcefield over it to keep out the birds.  She said she’ll come find us when she’s ready to be around people again.”

“And…” I trailed off, but Leliana picked it up for me.

“Don’t worry.  I know who you really want to know about. He’s been just outside this door the whole time, whining that he couldn’t come it,” Leliana assured me.

“He’s been quite the nuisance,” Wynne confirmed.  “But I just didn’t think it would help your recovery to have him standing over you, kissing your hand every five minutes.”

“Will you let him in now?” I asked.  I had to see him for myself. I had to see with my own two eyes that he was safe, unharmed, alive.  Leliana looked to Wynne for approval.

“Oh, alright, I suppose five minutes wouldn’t hurt,” she conceded, and Leliana went to the door.  When she opened it, Barkspawn barrelled through, barking his arrival and skidding to a halt at the head of the bed.  I reached out my hand to scratch the top of his head, and he rested his muzzle next to me. I was glad to see him unharmed, and I was touched he had been so concerned with my well-being, but he wasn’t who I had been asking about.

“What about...Alistair?” I asked.  Leliana looked at Wynne, biting her lip.  They both looked nervous. Which meant he was dead.

“No. No, no, no” I started to cry out.  I could feel the panic and despair swelling up inside me.  He was dead. After all I had done to ensure he would survive, he died anyway.

“Woah, woah, hold on, Solona,” Leliana soothed, putting her hands on my arms.  “He’s alive, he’s fine.”

“What?” I asked, perplexed.  “But the look you gave each other.”

Leliana looked at Wynne again, and again they looked nervous.

“That look,” I pointed out.  “Why do you give each other that look?”

“It’s nothing bad, per se,” Leliana explained.  “Well, when I say nothing bad-

“Leliana,” Wynne interrupted, then turned to me.  “I’m sorry for giving you a fright, dear. It’s just that we promised we would let him explain everything in person.”

“Then I want to see him.  Right now,” I pushed the blankets off of me, swung my feet over the edge of the bed, and stood up.  And then I immediately collapsed. Wynne and Leliana helped me slide back into the bed, with only a little interference from Barkspawn.  

“Alistair will come to you in due time, Solona,” Wynne gently reprimanded me.  “But you must stay here and rest. You are not fully recovered.”

“What happened to me?” I asked.  It probably should have been the first thing I asked, but I had more pressing issues on my mind.

“We’re… not sure,” Wynne admitted.  “Something happened to you when you killed the Archdemon.  There was a big column of light that seemed to consume both you and the dragon.  And then you collapsed. We sent for a Gray Warden healer immediately, but they’re not sure what happened to you either.  They said you should have died, but you didn’t. I feared you would never wake up.”

“What happens now?” I asked.  

“Just worry about recovering,” Leliana instructed.  “We can figure out our next steps later.”

I could feel myself falling asleep.  I wanted to stay awake until Alistair came for me, but my body wouldn’t let me.  I slipped back into unconsciousness, still uncertain what the future would hold.


	22. The Endings I've Imagined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair finally visits Solona and fills her in on post-Blight Denerim, but it's not what she'd imagined.

I waited for days, but Alistair did not come.  The rest of my companions did, but not the one I wanted most to see.  We chatted mindlessly, but I could not focus on their conversations and often pleaded exhaustion to get them to leave.

I was still often tired, but I was getting stronger every day.  Wynne monitored my progress diligently, making sure I was eating enough, sleeping enough, taking all of the health potions she cooked up.  When Leliana came around, which was often, I leaned on her for support as I relearned how to walk. My body was healing, but very slowly, and no amount of magic could hasten it.

When I was alone, I stroked Barkspawn’s fur and ran through all the scenarios of what Alistair could have to tell me.

Some of them were hopeful.  He was convincing the Chantry to grant me the title of queen so he could marry me and I could rule beside him.  He was kicking the Chantry out of the country, publicly for their role in facilitating the Orlesian occupation, but privately so that he could marry me without hassle and make me his queen.  He was figuring out the logistics for finding an heir that wasn’t blood related so he could continue his relationship with me without the pressure of having to marry. He was planning to abdicate the throne to be with me and needed to find a suitable replacement.

Some of them were less hopeful.  He had already found a wife and was making marriage plans.  He had changed his mind and was going to marry Anora and was making wedding plans.  He had realized he had never been in love with me, it had all been a lyrium-induced hallucination, and now that he was king he couldn’t take lyrium, was losing his Templar abilities, and didn’t love me anymore.  Whatever spell I had cast on the tower had horribly disfigured him, and he blamed me. The spell I had cast had turned him evil, and he was plotting to kill me. He had secretly fallen in love with Morrigan, and since she could bear him a child, he was going to marry her.  

Just when I thought I would go mad from the uncertainty, he appeared.  

He was well dressed, in the finery of nobility.  It looked good on him. The fabric strained over the muscles in his arms and chest, and neatly showed off his cinched waist.  He was clean shaven, without even the hint of stubble, and his hair had been combed back into a more regal style. He looked every bit the king.

“Hello,” I greeted him. With all the imagining I had done in the intervening time, I had forgotten how to react around him.  I didn’t know who Alistair would be now that the crown was almost on his head.

“I’m glad to see you recovered,” he said.  His voice was reserved, his posture stiff, and his hands were tucked behind him. Either he hated me, or he had something awful to tell me.

“Come to sentence me to death?” I asked jokingly.

“What? No!” he exclaimed, his face coming alive in concern, his hands reaching for me.  He stopped when he saw my smile. “I see, you were joking. Haha, very funny.”

“You’re very serious-looking today,” I said.  He took inventory of himself, and found that I was right.  He sighed, shrugged, and sat down at the foot of my bed.

“You’d think after ending a Blight, people would cut you come slack,” he complained.  “But instead, I’ve done nothing but put out fires since the battle.”

“Hey,” I protested.  “I’m pretty sure it was me that ended the Blight.”

“Yes, I know,” he groaned, side-eying me.  “ _ That’s _ one of the fires I have to put out.”  

“You don’t want people knowing I ended the Blight?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“It’s not that you ended the Blight, it’s  _ how _ you ended the Blight,” he clarified, then dropped his head into his hands and grumbled.  “It’s my own fault. I told Wynne to send for the Gray Wardens. I thought they could help you.  I didn’t think… I didn’t  _ think _ .  That’s really the problem.  I didn’t consider how the whole thing would look to them.  Granted, I didn’t know what you’d done to me yet, so-”

“Wait, what did I do to you?” I interrupted.  He looked at me with furrowed brows.

“Don’t you remember?” he asked.  “Zevran said he saw you cast the spell.”

“Yes, I remember that,” I recalled.  “But it was only to heal you. Didn’t it work?”

“Oh, it worked,” Alistair confirmed.  “It worked a little  _ too _ well, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“You cured me of my injuries, but you cured me of other things too.  My lyrium addiction, for one, which also means my Templar abilities are gone,” he explained.  “But more concerning, especially to the Gray Wardens, is that you seemed to have also cured me of the taint.”

“I what?” I asked.  “How is that possible?”

“I’m not sure.  The Wardens aren’t sure,” he admitted.  “Only once before, about 20 or so years ago, have they ever seen a Warden cured of the taint.  A mage called Fiona, I think. So naturally, the Wardens are very suspicious of you for that. I am a little curious too, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  I’ll just trust it has all its teeth.”

“I don’t know how I did it, honestly,” I confessed.  “I just reached out for residual magic and channeled it all into you.  It wasn’t even a proper spell. It was as likely to kill you as save you.”

“Be that as it may, that’s not the only Warden-related fire,” he continued.  “They are also very curious to know how you survived killing the Archdemon. That I expected.  If I had shown a little foresight, I would have arranged it to look like Riordan had made the killing blow, and avoided this mess all together, but after the battle, I was… distracted.”

“By me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he admitted.  “Which brings me to my third you-related fire.  Morrigan’s ritual was intended to place the soul of an Old God into the unborn child growing within her.  She says it didn’t happen.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Twice now.  She shows up in my chambers in the middle of the night and yells at me.”

“But if the ritual didn’t work, how am I alive at all?” I asked.

“See, that’s the thing,” Alistair replied.  “Morrigan says it did work. She swears up and down she’s carrying my child, only the soul of an Old God isn’t in it.”

“Then where is it?”

“I have no idea?  Neither does she. The Archdemon was definitely slain, but something happened that stopped it from going into her-our child.  She suspects something happened because of you, and that was why you collapsed and were asleep for nine days, but she can’t prove it because she can’t get in here to see you.  She also suspects that it has something to do with whatever spell you cast on me.”

“Is she very angry?” I asked.  I liked Morrigan, and didn’t want her upset with me, but she was also a formidable opponent, and if she was going to come for me, I wanted to be ready.

“I don’t think she’s mad at you,” he said, grasping my hand in comfort.  I squeezed back, happy just to be touching him. Too soon, he let go. “She’s definitely mad at me, but that’s nothing new.  Mostly she’s just frustrated her plan didn’t exactly work out. So that’s it. That’s what you missed.”

He cleared his throat and stood again, then sat back down.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” he added.  This was it. He was going to tell me he was marrying someone else.  “Because Morrigan is carrying my child, I’ve drawn up documents that would name him or her as my heir in the event I die without producing another one.  Obviously, if I marry and my wife gives birth, which actually seems possible, thanks to you, the legitimate child would inherit. But if not, there won’t be another succession crisis.”

“Morrigan agreed to that?” I asked in disbelief. 

“Oh, no, she hates the idea,” he admitted.  “But I’m king, or will be, after my coronation, and I don’t need her approval.  So, win-win. I piss her off, and I get an heir.”

We sat in silence for a moment.  When he got up to leave, I mustered the courage to ask him what I really wanted to know.

“Why did you wait so long to see me?” I asked.  I could tell from his face it was a question he didn’t want to answer but would anyway.

“I needed some distance from you,” he confided.  “I needed to know what it was like to be apart from you, to see if it would kill me, or if my feelings would fade.  When you woke up, it had only been nine days. That didn’t seem like enough time. So I waited another two weeks.”

“And?” I pressed him.  “Is it going to kill you?  Or do you no longer love me?”

“No, I still love you,” he confessed.  “Even now, seeing you, I want more than anything to take you in my arms and hold you and promise you forever.  But I also learned that being apart from you won’t kill me. It hurts, but it’s not a mortal wound. It’s something I think I can live with, even if it is only a half-life.”

I nodded, and leaned back against the headboard.  Nothing I had imagined was true. Nothing had changed since before the Battle of Denerim.  He still loved me. He still couldn’t be with me.

“So this is it, then?” I clarified.

“Well, I hope you’ll be there for my coronation,” he wished.  “And when you’re fully recovered, there’ll be a ceremony to name you the official Hero of Ferelden.  The people are itching for a good party. Especially Oghren. After that, I’m sure the Wardens will put you to work hunting down the remaining darkspawn and rebuilding the Gray Warden presence here.  We’ll see each other from time to time.”

“But we’ll never be together again,” I concluded.  

“No, we can’t,” he confirmed.  “Not even for a night. Every time I say goodbye to you, it becomes more painful.  I don’t regret all that we’ve had, but this is the way it must be from here on out.”

Again, he turned to leave, but this time it was me that called him back.

“You still have a promise you need to keep,” I reminded him.  He looked at me with confusion, then cocked his head to the side, combing through his memories. “You promised me a dance.”

He smiled as the memory came to him. Us, standing in the stables at Redcliffe Castle, both in simple clothes, our journey barely begun.

“I did promise that, didn’t I,” he confirmed. “I promised I would dance with you, and no one else.”

“Are you going to keep it?” I asked. I wouldn’t hold him to it, if he didn’t want to. But I hoped he’d say yes.

“There’s not really any music,” he pointed out. 

“Can’t you sing?”

“I don’t think that’s something you want to hear,” he laughed. Just then, Leliana’s voice came floating through the window. It seemed like a divine gift, but I suspected she had been eavesdropping on us.  Still, her song was beautiful, and Alistair reached out his hand to me, helping me out of the bed.

I had never danced before, so I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and waited for him to take the lead.  I suspected that he had never danced, either, because all he did was rest his hands on my hips and sway back and forth. It was the simplest dance we could have done. 

As Leliana’s melody cascaded around us, he drew me closer, and I tucked my head under his chin. The warmth of his body against mine was soothing, and I breathed in his scent. It was as it always had been: sweet, a little earthy, a little musky, and completely him. I became aware of the fact that this would be the last time I would ever hold him, the last time I would ever be close enough to smell him, the last time I would ever feel his hands on me. Panic rose within me, and I pressed my face into his chest, trying to block out the reality of our parting.

Leliana’s song finished, but he didn’t let go, and I didn’t pull away. I wanted this moment to last as long as it could. Once it was over, it would be over forever. 

“I would still follow you into the Fade,” Alistair whispered into my hair. 

“But you can’t,” I finished, finally collecting myself and starting to pull away. When I looked in his eyes, they were filled with unspent tears. I cupped his face. “Ferelden needs you. And the Gray Wardens need me.”

“When I was a kid, I used to think that kings could do whatever they wanted,” he admitted. “I got so angry at my father because I thought he was being selfish, but now… maybe he felt like this. Maybe he loved my mother as much as I love you, and knew that he could never be with her, like…”

“Like you can never be with me,” I answered. “You need a wife that can give you children. Someone of noble birth. I would, if I could. I would give you everything, if I could.”

One tear spilled over and rolled down his cheek. I wiped it away, then let go of him for good.

“You gave me this,” he told me, his hand over his heart. “I will carry it with me for the rest of my life.”

“I love you, Alistair Theirin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Solona get a happy ending? Yes. Will that happy ending be with Alistair? Anything is possible.


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona discovers there are side effects to her abilities she wasn't prepared for, and her life changes irreversibly.

I didn’t see Alistair again until his coronation.  He looked like a changed man. Gone was the boy I first met, making sarcastic remarks to annoyed Magi.  He was a different man, now. More poised, more powerful, more serious. He would make a good king.

He proved himself almost immediately.  He started by giving the Alienage its own arling, granting the city elves a voice among the nobility.  He also designated some land near Ostagar as a permanent Dalish homeland, as thanks for helping in the battle.  He signed new trade deals with the Orzammar and put everyone back to work rebuilding all the darkspawn had ruined.  The people loved him.

The Gray Wardens put me to work, too.  I was sent to Amaranthine to clear out the darkspawn there and to build a Gray Warden fortress and fortify the city from further attack.  I was also to recruit new Wardens along the way, including an elven mage named Velanna who turned my world upside down.

“I’ve heard tales of mages like you,” she said one day, as we patrolled the Winding Woods.  There hadn’t been an attack near here since our encounter with the Architect, but I didn’t want us to grow complacent. 

“What kind of mage is that?” I asked. 

“Ones with the ability to reshape reality,” she replied.

“I can’t reshape reality,” I argued.  The thought made me nauseous, but that was nothing new.  I had been sick to my stomach often in the three months since the Battle of Denerim. 

“You can, you just can’t control it,” she countered.  “Like when a child first starts setting things on fire, but they don’t know how, and they don’t know how to stop it.  You’re far more powerful than you have any right to be, being a shemlen and all. But you have no idea how to tap into it.  You do it on instinct.”

It was too much.  I turned to the side of the road, bent over, and emptied my stomach into the bushes.

“Also, you’re pregnant,” she said.

“I’m what?” I demanded, turning on her, wiping the spit from my mouth.

“Pregnant,” she repeated.  “That’s what it’s called when you’re growing a child inside you.  I’d say you’re about three months along, judging from the fact that you’re only just beginning to show.”

I looked down at myself.  I did have the tiniest bulge in my lower abdomen, but I had chalked it up to the fact that I was eating regular meals again. I had been eating a lot, even though it had been over a year since my joining.  I had had to swap my stays for a simple breast band. And it was about three months since I last…

“This can’t be happening,” I whimpered.

“It’s quite normal, there’s nothing to fear,” Velanna assured me.  “As a mage, you’re unlikely to experience the kind of combat that could accidentally cause a miscarriage, and magic doesn’t really seem to have any effect on the growing baby.  At least in elves, anyway. Perhaps it’s different in humans?”

I placed my hand on my stomach.  This was something I had never considered I would experience.  As a Circle mage, we were forbidden from having children. As a Gray Warden, it was supposed to be almost impossible to conceive.  And yet, here I was, according to Velanna, at least, carrying a child. Alistair’s child. It had been three months since we had been together, which added up.  

I started to consider other factors.  We had lain together frequently in Denerim, but our last time was at Redcliffe, the same night as Morrigan’s ritual.  What if I had accidentally pulled the magic of that spell into myself when we had made love, similar to the way I had pulled magic into me when I healed Alistair?  I wouldn’t have even known I was doing it, according to Velanna. And then, at the Battle, when I killed the Archdemon… oh Maker, what if the reason the soul of the Old God hadn’t entered Morrigan was because… because it had entered me? Was it my child that had thwarted her plans?

I waited a month before writing Alistair.  I wanted to be sure, and not simply trust the word of an elf barely out of her teenage years.  I had never been with child before; I didn’t know what to expect. My stomach kept growing, and I noticed other changes in my body too.  Not big changes. But enough.

 

Dear Alistair,

Please come to Amaranthine immediately.  A matter of the utmost importance requires your attention.  Discretion is highly recommended. If Morrigan is still yelling at you in the middle of the night, tell her to come too.

Eternally yours,

Solona Amell, Warden-Commander of Ferelden

 

I waited for his response.

Two days later, he came barreling into the courtyard of Vigil’s Keep, unannounced, and with the smallest retinue I had seen him with since the coronation.  Everyone who had been milling about stared in shock, but he only glanced around, looking for me. I didn’t know he would come this quickly. I hadn’t yet figured out what to say.

I led him into the study, then closed the door behind him.

“Solona what’s all this about?  Why was no one expecting me?” he demanded.

“I didn’t think you’d come without announcing yourself,” I chided.  

“You said immediately,” he defended.  “You said to use discretion.”

“I didn’t say to break royal protocol,” I hissed.  I didn’t want us to raise our voices, just in case someone was trying to eavesdrop.  He took the hint and lowered his voice, too.

“Is this why you called me here? To argue?” he joked.  “No wonder you wanted me to bring Morrigan, she loves to argue.”

“Did you bring her?” I asked, hopeful.

“No,” he replied.  “I haven’t seen her in months.”

“Oh.” I was hoping she was still harassing him.  She would know what to do. She would be able to give us guidance, or better yet, remove the Old God from our child.  Without her, I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Solona, what is going on?” Alistair asked again.  I didn’t know if I could just come right out and tell him, so instead, I showed him.  I took his hand and laid it gently on my stomach, right over the swelling. It was still small, but it was more noticeable than it had been a month ago.  

“What am I feeling?” he asked, confused.  “I don’t want to say your stomach isn’t as flat as it used to be, because I think that’ll get me hit, but it seems like you’ve put on a little weight.  Nothing wrong with that; I have too. You’re still beautiful, of course.”

“Alistair,” I grumbled.  “Please think for a moment, so I don’t have to say it out loud.  I don’t want anyone overhearing us.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to judge you for having a little belly,” he objected.

“Really?  Well, what about in five months, when it’s out to here?” I asked, moving his hand away from me to demonstrate.

“There’s no way you’d put on that much weight in five months,” he scoffed.  “Not unless you were… I mean, if you were…”

He trailed off, the wheels turning in his brain. He had it, there, on the tip of his tongue.  He just couldn’t connect the concept in abstract with the real-life person in front of him.

“No way,” he finally whispered, looking up at me for confirmation.  “That’s not possible.”

I explained my theories, as well as what Velanna had said about my use of magic.  He stood quietly, dumbfounded really, as I did.

“No way,” he whispered again, once I had fallen silent.  Then he put his hand back on my stomach, joined it with the other one, and stared at it in wonder.  “I’m gonna be a dad.”

“You already knew that,” I reminded him. “ Remember Morrigan.”

“Yes, but this one I’ll get to see,” he said, kneeling before me, bringing himself eye-level with my navel.

“Why do you assume I’ll let you see it?” I asked.  His eyes shot to mine, uncertain. “I don’t mean to be cruel,” I said, letting my fingers comb through his hair.  He was growing it out a bit, and it was starting to curl. “When we last talked, you made it clear we couldn’t be together. I’ve committed myself to the Gray Wardens.  I have much work that needs to be done, and I’m the best one to do it. In Denerim, I would have done whatever you asked, but you asked me to go away, and I did. Nothing has changed, except for this child.”

“But this child changes everything,” he pleaded.  “A child, born by my wife, was the whole reason we couldn’t be together.  But you are carrying my child. If I make you my wife-”

“You can’t,” I protested. “A child was not all that stood between our marriage.  I am still a mage, and the Chantry forbids it. I am still a commoner, and the Bannorn would dissuade it.”

“Who cares?” he challenged, standing and taking my face in his hands.  “If the Chantry stands in our way, then I’ll kick them out of Ferelden.  If the Bannorn does, I’ll kick them out too. Or I’ll abdicate. Please, this is all I want.  To be with you and our child.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” I scolded, trying to pull his hands away from my face.  “You would regret abdicating, and you can’t kick out the Chantry or your nobles without plunging the country into civil war.  You won’t do that so soon after the Blight.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” he huffed.  “Sit quietly in my palace discussing trade agreements with Antiva while the love of my life and my child are Maker knows where, without me?”

“Yes,” I told him, then changed my mind. “No. I don’t know.”

“Do you still love me?” he asked, turning my chin so he could look me in the eyes.  “Tell me no, and I’ll let you go, and you can raise our child however you wish. I won’t stop you.”

I tried to struggle out of his grip, but he wouldn’t relent.  I couldn’t lie to him.

“But if you can’t tell me no, then let me figure out a way for us to be together again,” he pleaded.

“As what? Your mistress?” I asked.

“Yes,” he declared, then changed his mind. “No. I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.  I just know that I love you, and I love our child.”

“You broke my heart,” I accused him.

“I know. I’m sorry.  Can you forgive me?” he asked. I wanted to say no. I wanted to punish him for pushing me away. I wanted him to feel the pain he had caused me throughout the length of our separation. But I also wanted to kiss him. I wanted to measure the growth of my belly in the span of his hands.  I wanted him to teach our child to wield a sword and ride a horse. I wanted to spend my nights next to him, to fall asleep listening to his breathing.

“Maybe,” I finally told him. “You’ll have to earn it.”

“Oh, ho!” he laughed.  “That sounds rather saucy.  We’ll have to discuss my punishment later on, I see.”

“You could start by kissing me hello,” I offered.  He obeyed. All the hurt, pain, and uncertainty I had felt over the past few months faded away when our lips touch.  His kiss was better than I remembered it. His hands moved over me to caress my back and cup my cheek. This was what I had been missing.

“I’ll need to stay in Amaranthine, at least until these residual darkspawn are dealt with,” I informed him when we broke for breath.

“Are you sure that’s safe, considering your condition?” he asked.

“I can’t forsake my duty.  And I think I only need another two months,” I reasoned.  “After that, I’ll come to you. And then nothing will push us apart again.”

He responded with another kiss.  There was still much I was uncertain of, but at least in this I knew I could trust.  Alistair would love our child for the rest of his life, and for as long as I would let him, he would love me too.


End file.
